


Caged

by Nekomata58919



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Post-Episode: s05e16 Felina, Prison, Rating May Change, Slurs, attempts at sounding like I know chemistry, bad guys being bad guys basically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2019-10-29 04:47:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 39,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17801333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekomata58919/pseuds/Nekomata58919
Summary: Jesse managed to escape one cage, just to be trapped in another. Can happiness ever be more than just an elusive dream?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everybody!  
> Guess who's 12 years late to the party? Yep, this girl! Just got done watching BrBa, working on Better Call Saul, and I dived head first into the dumpster fire that is the Walt/Jesse ship. I don't know whether to be ashamed of myself or not.  
> Anyway, this is my first fic for this particular fandom. There's a possibility it'll be my only one, but that depends on inspiration, and whether or not people even like this fic.  
> Now that I've thoroughly boosted your confidence in me, let's get started. Enjoy!

         Red. Blue.

         Red. Blue.

         Red. Blue.

         The lights played behind Jesse’s eyes, even when he closed them. His head _thunked_ against the window of the cop car he’d been shoved into as he stared out the window. Jesse wasn’t sure how they’d found him. Or why they’d been looking. They might’ve said, but he hadn’t heard. It didn’t matter, really. His hands clenched and his chest heaved. The cold bite of metal against his wrists made his skin crawl.

         Hands pulled him from the car, shoved him around, forced him into a building. A familiar police station. The stares of the people inside raked over him, but Jesse didn’t react. Those rough hands pushed him down into a chair and Jesse grunted in pain. Everything still hurt. He wondered if the pain would ever stop.

         Voices bounced around Jesse’s head. Fingerprints, meth, bodies, money. DEA. It was all just noise and it pulled him down. Down through the floor, into an ocean.

         Jesse floated. Then sank. Sank through the inky, blue-green darkness.

         Fingers snapped in front of his eyes and Jesse jumped, surfacing for a moment, panic clawing at his throat. When nothing else happened, he slumped in his seat like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

         There were more voices, more words, and Jesse caught something about a lawyer. A door opened and closed. Opened again, closed again. Footsteps followed by the screech of a chair as it scraped across the floor. The voice was quieter this time.

         Jesse looked up, focused on the man in the navy blue suit sitting across from him. He didn’t know the man, the lawyer, and it didn’t matter. The lawyer spoke softly, calm and confident, but his eyes were disinterested.

         The lawyer talked for a while. Promised to do his best to help Jesse; get him a good deal, work to get his sentence down to the minimum, and whatever else. Jesse nodded, going along with it, because what else could he do?

 

* * *

 

         Jesse stared at the brown splotch on the off-white ceiling of the courthouse. A water stain had formed in the shape of an elephant. Or a horse. His hands twitched in his lap and he picked at the cuticles of his thumbnail. It was a dog.

         He heard his lawyer arguing his case, demanding he get a psychological evaluation, that he _couldn’t be held responsible for his actions because_ —but it all sounded muffled. Like it was coming from far away. The only word that pierced through the fog in Jesse’s mind was,

         “Guilty.”

         Jesse would have cried if he’d had any tears left. He’d escaped one cage just to be sent to another. Besides, he deserved it. It was his fault Andrea was dead, that Brock no longer had a mom. Maybe it was for the best that he get locked up. Jesse had no-where else to go anyway.

         No-one who cared.

         Jesse was alone.

         His parents hadn’t shown up. Hadn’t called. Hadn’t visited. Jesse didn’t even know if they knew he was alive. It was possible they thought he’d died somewhere. They were probably relieved. Jesse would’ve been. Living hurt too much.

 

* * *

 

         Blue.

         Rippling and streaked with white.

         Jesse rubbed at his eyes and looked away from the sky, letting his gaze drop to the dirt crusted metal floor of the bus. It rattled and shook down the long road through the desert. The few other prisoners on the bus were mostly quiet, a couple muttered to each other or themselves. A guard dressed in dark gray was keeping close eye on them all, so that was likely why no-one was trying to pull any shit.

         He wondered what day it was. Jesse knew a lot of time had passed after his escape and before the police showed up, maybe a week or two. Even that was a kind of a guess. As soon as he’d gotten home he’d collapsed on his couch and slept. When he’d woken up it was sometime in the afternoon and he’d been starving. His short time of freedom had been spent shaving, showering, stuffing his mouth with whatever food was still edible, crying, and sleeping.

         Jesse knew he shouldn’t have gone back. But he hadn’t had anywhere else to go.

         When he lifted his head again, the gray walls of the prison loomed over them. The sun was blocked out momentarily as the bus drove through the gates set back inside the walls, and around the large courtyard where prisoners could be seen. The bus turned a corner and stopped with a high pitched whine and hiss of exhaust.

         “Off the bus!” the guard up front shouted.

         Jesse got to his feet and slipped into the line, following the burly man in front of him off the bus and onto the concrete outside. They were herded along by more guards with guns. Jesse kept his head down, ignoring the jeers and catcalls of the prisoners behind the chain-link fence. Or trying to.

         They were directed into the main building, through several security points, given quick but thorough medical exams, and finally moved into an area sectioned off with what looked like those room dividers from a hospital.

         “Strip,” one of the guards grunted at him.

         Piece by piece, Jesse peeled away his clothes, revealing the scars and bruises that littered his body. His hands shook as he hung up his clothes, and he couldn’t help but hunch in on himself as he was ushered over to a grate in the floor. Without warning, a blast of cold water hit him between the shoulder blades and he yelped. Jesse was pushed forward by the force and smacked his hands against the brick wall to keep himself upright.

         It was over as fast as it started and an orange uniform was tossed into his arms. Jesse dressed quickly, slipped on some sneakers, and was immediately shoved around to join the others back in line. He shivered as he walked, and it took too much effort to _not_ wrap his arms around himself. That would just bring even more attention down on him. He needed to be invisible. If no-one noticed him, Jesse might just be able to survive the forty years he’d gotten.

         The warden made an appearance and went over the rules. Jesse vaguely heard them, though he assumed as long as he didn’t cause any trouble there wasn’t a lot to fuck up about it. There was mention of jobs, and after some evaluation they’d be given a list of appropriate jobs they could choose from.

         The guards led them into a cell block. Jesse let the repetitive clanking of footsteps on metal stairs fill his head, trying to block out the bad thoughts that threatened to creep to the forefront of his mind. Unfortunately, he must not have been paying enough attention because one of the guards grabbed his arm and jerked him in the direction of a cell.

         “You got yourself a roommate, kid. You’d best play nice when he gets back,” he sneered. “Would hate to see what he’d do to a scrawny thing like you.”

         Jesse turned inside the cell as the door rolled shut and the guard locked it. Once the guard had left, he looked around.

         A bunk bed, toilet, a sink with two tooth brushes and toothpaste, and a calendar taped to the empty wall. That was all there was in the cell. It seemed clean enough, from what Jesse could tell. In fact, the bunk bed was so well made he couldn’t tell which one was unused. Which meant he had no idea which one was free, and Jesse really didn’t want to assume and get beaten up for being wrong. Jesse wandered over to the calendar. Most of the month of September had been crossed out already, stopping at the last Tuesday of the month.

         Sighing, Jesse lowered himself to the floor and sat with his back against the wall. It hurt to do, but standing for so long was exhausting and made his body ache. He wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his chin on his knees.

         Part of him wondered if maybe he should have stayed at that compound. Stayed with Mr. White and died there too. It couldn’t have been worse than going to jail, and he wouldn’t have the chance to mess up someone else’s life if he ever made it out of here. Jesse squeezed his eyes shut. It would’ve been better than dying here. He knew that was a strong possibility. A single shot to the head had to be better than being beaten again and shanked, right?

         Noises from down below had Jesse sitting up straight. People were coming up the stairs. One of them could be his cellmate. Jesse curled in on himself. A guard appeared and opened the cell door. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._

         The man that stomped inside had to be at least six-foot-four, and his shoulders were as broad as the doorway. His shaved head was covered in tattoos and his nose looked like it had been broken more than once. His lip curled as he glared down at Jesse.

         Jesse cried out as the man grabbed him by the arm and hauled him over. He gasped as he was slammed back into the wall.

         “You touch any of my shit, and I’ll snap your spine like a goddamn twig,” the man snarled, putrid breath puffing into Jesse’s face.

_“I didn’t!_ I won’t!” Jesse wheezed. Up close he could see EWMN tattooed across his knuckles, and three dots by his right eye.

         The man snorted. “Top bunk is mine. Don’t talk to me unless I tell you to, and if you make any annoying noises...” The threat of being broken clearly didn’t need repeating.

         Jesse nodded. He sagged against the wall once he was released, and the man grunted before going to the toilet to piss. Jesse inched over to the bars of the cell. He wanted as much distance between them as possible.

         Staring at the windows high in the gray and green painted brick wall across from the cells, Jesse withdrew into himself and waited for time to pass. Luckily, it passed quickly, and sooner than he expected the guard was back. Jesse hurried from the cell to join the line of prisoners outside.

         “Meal time! Hurry up!” shouted the guards as they moved up and down the cell block.

         The cafeteria was large and gray, and the space was broken up by concrete pillars, and guards were posted here and there along the sides and by the doors. White tables were spread throughout, and a line had already formed for the food.

         Jesse managed to grab a try without getting mauled by the hungry inmates around him. Potatoes, canned green beans, and a lump of something gray-brown that he guessed was meant to be meat was plopped onto the tray. Jesse stumbled away from the crowd. But then a new problem arose.

         Where was he supposed to sit?

         Jesse was sure there were definitely wrong places to sit. He didn’t want to join a gang or get killed by one. But then, how many of the people sitting on their own were just as bad? Or worse? Jesse gripped his tray, his eyes darting back and forth, trying to find one empty table.

         “Outta the way,” a man snapped, shoving Jesse aside. He stumbled back and the tray slipped from his grasp.

         “Fucking shit!” a voice shouted.

         Jesse looked up as a fist collided with his face. A cry escaped him as he crashed to the ground.

         “You little faggot! Look what you did!” The man pressed his foot down on Jesse’s chest and gestured angrily at the front of his uniform, which was covered in food.

         “I’m sorry! I didn’t me--”

         “Shut the fuck up!” The man spat on him. “Gonna fuck you up!”

_“Titus,”_ a new voice spoke up; a raspy warning.

         Titus looked back over his shoulder. “Yeah...” he grumbled. He stepped back, only to for another new guy to step into Jesse’s field of vision.

         This guy was taller than Titus, but considerably shorter than Jesse’s cellmate. No tattoos were visible on his pale skin from where he had the sleeves of his jumpsuit rolled up, but his smirk revealed a crooked gold tooth. “Been waiting for some new meat. It’s a little banged up, but I think we can still have some fun.”

         Jesse wriggled and grappled against the floor, but the guy grabbed him by the scruff of his uniform. “Let go!” He tried to swing his elbow back into the guy’s stomach, but his arm was grabbed and wrenched behind his back.

         “None of that, boy,” Gold Tooth snickered. “I was a little worried he didn’t have any fight left in him. Nice to see I was wrong.”

         “Are we all gonna get a go at him?” Titus asked, the leer evident in his tone, even if Jesse couldn’t see it.

_“Tch._ I get him first, and then we’ll see if he’s worth passing around,” Gold Tooth said. He yanked Jesse up and back, hooking his arm around his neck. “If you behave I might even let you rest up in between, huh?”

_“Russel._ Just what do you think you’re doing?”

         A shiver raced up Jesse’s spine. That growl of a voice was familiar. But it couldn’t be...

         “Having a chat with the new guy,” Gold Tooth—Russel—replied coolly.

         “Let. Him. Go. _Now.”_

         “And why would I do that?”

         “Because he’s mine.”

         Russel turned, dragging Jesse with him.

         Jesse looked up with wide eyes. “Mr. White?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments and kudos! It's heartening to see people are interested in my story. I hope you continue to enjoy it.

         Walter White stood there in the cafeteria of the prison like he owned the place, that cold look in his eyes as he stared Russel down. His lips were thinned into a hard line beneath his beard.

_“Yours?”_ Russel scoffed. “I saw him first, which means he’s mine, _Heisenberg.”_

         “Pinkman was _my_ partner out _there_ ,” Heisenberg said, pointing at the walls. “Which means he’s _mine_ in _here_.”

         Part of Jesse wanted to argue, wanted to yell and shout and punch Mr. White—how was he even alive? But a larger part of him didn’t want to be raped by Russel and his men; there was no doubt that that was what the man had planned for him. The shock and the fear kept Jesse quiet.

         Russel squeezed his arm around Jesse’s neck, bicep buldging. “That right… How do I know you’re not lying, huh?”

         Heisenberg quirked an eyebrow. “Why would I lie to help some stranger? What would that _possibly_ do for me?”

         “Hm.” Russel looked at Jesse, then back to Heisenberg. His jaw worked back and forth as he considered his response. “Fine. You can have him.” Russel removed his arm from Jesse and shoved him forward.

         Heisenberg grabbed Jesse’s wrist and tugged him over. He gave a sharp nod to Russel, and marched them over to an empty table that had been blocked from view by a pillar. He pointed at the bench and then moved to sit himself.

         Jesse bit the inside of his cheek to keep from wincing as he lowered himself onto the bench. His brain had mostly been filled with silence up to now, but suddenly all the dark thoughts were racing around, fighting to come out of his mouth like vomit. He held them back.

         “Here,” Heisenberg said softly, pushing his tray of food and plastic fork towards Jesse. “You should eat something.”

         Blinking, Jesse looked up at him. It wasn’t Heisenberg looking back. It wasn’t even Mr. White. The man sitting across from him was...different. Somehow both and neither. He looked much like he had when he’d shown up at the compound to kill those neo-nazis—short hair and a full beard. Except, maybe a little healthier. More filled out again. “How?” Jesse croaked, finally getting words to work.

         Mr. White tapped his fingers against the table top. “Ah.” He sighed. “I was told that the police got to me in time, though I’d fallen unconscious. They brought me to a hospital and removed the shrapnel that had gotten stuck inside. Apparently it missed anything vital, and since it didn’t go straight through I didn’t lose as much blood. Eventually, they also told me my cancer was back in remission.”

         Once again, luck followed Mr. White wherever he went. Whether it was good luck or bad luck, Jesse didn’t know, but he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised by it anymore.

_“Jesse...”_ Mr. White’s voice was pained. “I had hoped you would be gone from here. Some other state. Free from”—he gestured vaguely—“all of this. From me.”

         Jesse snatched his hands back as Mr. White reached for him. He crossed his arms and looked down at the mushy green beans on the tray.

         Mr. White cleared his throat. “As much as I’m sure you want nothing to do with me—and you have _every_ reason for that—I’m going to help you, keep you safe as much as I’m able to. My, ah, reputation here should afford you some protection, as long as you stick with me.”

         “You’re reputation for selling meth or for murdering those guys in prison?” Jesse asked, lifting his gaze to glare at him. “Or maybe it’s for poisoning a kid?” He felt some small flare of satisfaction at Mr. White’s flinch.

         “I deserve that,” Mr. White muttered. He looked Jesse in the eye, expression serious. “But Jesse, your anger at me shouldn’t blind you to the reality that you’re in danger here.”

         “In danger here? _Here?”_ Jesse snapped. “How can it be any worse than the _danger_ I was in with those _monsters_ you gave me to?” He knew Mr. White hadn’t known what Jack and his crew would do to him. He knew Mr. White thought they’d just kill him and be done with it. Mr. White had saved him in the end. Had risked his life to get him out. But still, Jesse was angry and hurt and scared and this was all too much.

         Mr. White finally seemed out of words. Despite his stiff, angry posture, his eyes were sad. Guilty. He looked down at his hands, which were folded together and resting on the table. “I’m sorry, Jesse.”

         If only Jesse knew how to feel about that. He did believe him. When he’d looked Mr. White in the eye before finally driving away, he could see something had changed. Jesse could see he regretted at least some of what he’d done. “I know,” he replied, voice barely above a whisper.

         Before the conversation could continue, an announcement over the intercom ended dinner. Guards got them all lined up according to their cell blocks—Jesse was surprised to see Mr. White was in his—and led from the cafeteria. Jesse felt Mr. White’s eyes on him as they entered C-Block, and all the way to his cell.

         The moment the cell door closed, Jesse once again curled up in the corner against the bars. He heard his cellmate moving around a bit, followed by the ominous creak of the bunk bed. Jesse chanced a glance at the guy to see him laying on the top bunk and reading.

         Jesse pulled himself to his feet and shuffled quietly to the toilet. He figured he’d just do what he had to, and quickly go to bed. It didn’t matter if the sun hadn’t even set all the way. Jesse was pretty sure he could sleep forever.

         “Better hurry the fuck up. Trying to read up here,” his cellmate snapped.

         Grimacing, Jesse did as he was told, washed his hands, and scurried over to the bottom bunk. He pulled the thin, scratchy beige blanket up to his chin and curled up with his back against the wall. Jesse closed his eyes, his tears staining the pillow.

 

 

* * *

 

 

         Walt stared at the gray ceiling from where he reclined on his top bunk. His cellmate, Vince, had gone to make a phone call. He still couldn’t believe Jesse was here. It wasn’t right; Jesse didn’t deserve to suffer. He never had. When Jack had brought Jesse to him, Walt had realized just how badly he’d fucked up. God, Jesse had been so broken; thin and dirty, looking like he hadn’t slept or eaten in weeks.

         Laying there, on the floor of the lab, he had consoled himself with the thought that at least Jesse was free. Now, though, Walt couldn’t imagine—didn’t _want_ to imagine—what would happen if he had died and Jesse was left here in prison on his own.

         And that there was another problem. Walt had decided that he’d serve his life sentence. He had no reason to leave; his family hated him, he’d left the money for Junior, and Jesse could live a new life. This was his punishment and he would take it. But now… Walt couldn’t let Jesse rot in here. He didn’t know how long he was given, but any amount of time was too long.

         A sigh escaped him. Walt would help Jesse, whether he wanted him to or not. He would get him out, make sure he was truly safe somewhere far away, and then turn himself back in. Walt would take full blame. It didn’t matter what happened to him any more. Jesse’s life was far more important.

         In the meantime, though, Walt needed a way to keep Jesse safe. There was no way he could stay in the same cell as Eddie. The last time Walt had seen that man’s previous cellmate, he’d been taken to the infirmary with a broken back. Walt would be damned if he let Jesse suffer the same fate. Which meant he would have to find a way to get Jesse switched to his cell.

 

 

* * *

 

 

         Showers came before breakfast. Walt kept an eye on Jesse as they were lined up, counted, and led through the halls to the showers. He’d need to move quickly to get the shower next to him, so he could make sure no-one tried anything.

         Walt weaved through the crowd, stripped by the benches with the others, and just managed to grab the shower head beside Jesse’s. He saw Jesse glance at him out of the corner of his eyes, look around, and then duck his head to avoid looking at anyone. Whether that meant he was accepting Walt’s protection or not, Walt didn’t know. It didn’t really matter. He shot a glare at the nearby prisoners before washing up.

 

         Breakfast—oatmeal, toast, and coffee—was a quiet affair. Surprisingly, Jesse chose to sit with Walt. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t talk or look at him. Walt tried not to mind too much, the important thing was that Jesse was there and safe.

         Whatever Jesse felt about Walt, he knew that Walt would protect him...

         The silence quickly became a little too much. “Jesse,” Walt started, getting his attention.

         “What?” Jesse muttered.

         Walt held back his irritation at Jesse’s tone. “Jobs will be assigned soon. If you can, I need you to get a job working in the laundry.”

         Jesse blinked up at him and frowned. “Why the hell would I do that?”

         “I’m getting you out of here. There may be chemicals we can use in the laundry room. I’d do it myself, but I was given a job doing record keeping so that I couldn’t cause trouble. Not that I had planned on escaping before now.”

         “Are you _nuts!?”_ Jesse demanded, eyes wide. He scrubbed his hands over his face. “No. I’m not getting involved with any more of your schemes, yo. Every time I do, _I’m_ the one that ends up hurt! So fuck you!”

         “Jesse, this is _for you,”_ Walt insisted, gesturing at Jesse emphatically. “You don’t deserve to be here. I’m going to make sure that nothing happens to you, and once you’re out of here and safe I’m turning myself back in. I swear.”

         “I said no,” Jesse hissed. “Dammit, Mr. White, _please._ It’s only gonna end badly.” He looked up at Walt with a pained expression, blue eyes large and watery. “If I behave then I might not have to do the full forty years. But if we get caught...?”

         “Forty years? _Forty_ years… Jesus…” Walt shook his head. He wanted to press his point, tell Jesse he clearly wasn’t thinking right if he really wanted to spend forty years in prison instead of escaping, but he stopped himself. It wouldn’t help. Walt would just have to prove he could help Jesse, without Jesse getting hurt after. And if he could come up with a proper plan, lay it all out for him, maybe he’d agree to let Walt break him out.

         “We’ll discuss this again later,” Walt finally said.

         Jesse rolled his eyes and glared down at the table. “Whatever.”

 

         The sun had risen completely by the time they were allowed out into the yard. The scuff of Jesse’s sneakers against the concrete followed Walt over to one of the fences. He stopped and leaned against the chain link. “It’d be for the best if you took the time to look around. See how the others interact,” Walt said after a few minutes. “Learn who to avoid.”

         Jesse shrugged.

         “Jesse—”

         “God, shut up!” Jesse snapped. “The only reason I’m standing here right now is because I know on my own I’d be dead. That’s it. I don’t… Just...” He made a noise of frustration, hands clutching his hair as he slumped back against the fence.

         Walt rubbed a hand over his mouth, nodded, and angled himself away. He’d leave Jesse alone for now. Instead, he’d concentrate on seeing if there were any weak points in the walls that he could see. It wasn’t likely, especially without walking along the entire yard, but any information was good information.

         His gaze swept over the yard again and landed on a guard. A guard who was watching Jesse. Walt’s eyes narrowed. He recalled seeing the man watching Jesse before—and he knew it was him because of the distinctive mole on his chin. It had been in the cafeteria when Russel and his men were surrounding Jesse. Walt turned to Jesse. “Will you be alright right here for a minute?”

         Jesse gave a curt nod.

         Unable to help himself, Walt reached out and gave Jesse’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. Before Jesse could snap at him, he walked away. He needed to have a chat with that guard.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all my readers!   
> An extra warning: This chapter contains attempted rape

         Jesse winced and hissed as the nurse poked at his swollen cheek and eye.

         “It doesn’t seem to be broken,” she said, stepping back. “You’ll just have to avoid aggravating it. Luckily you didn’t get a concussion either, despite getting knocked out.”

         “Do I get like, an ice pack or something for this?” Jesse asked, hoping that despite her stern expression she might actually help.

         The nurse shook her head, a couple of strands of blonde hair coming loose from her bun. “It’ll heal on it’s own. I’m not wasting supplies on a black eye.”

         “Please?” Jesse begged. “I’ll bring it back as soon as possible?”

         After a moment, the nurse sighed and nodded. “Fine.” She brought him an ice pack—one of those jell ones with the blue liquid visible in the back—before heading over to the phone on the yellow wall by the doors. “A guard will bring you back to your cell.”

         Jesse pressed the pack to his eye and cheek. It was his fucking cellmate who gave him the damn black eye and kicked him in the stomach. And for no reason! Jesse hadn’t done anything to the guy, and he’d just gone off and started beating the crap out of him. And they wanted to send him back there?

         The doors to the infirmary opened and a guard walked in. He appeared to be in his forties, with swept back black hair, and a distinctive mole on his chin. The guard stopped in front of Jesse. “Get up. I’m taking you to your new cell.”

         “New cell?” Jesse asked, eyes narrowed. At the guard’s pointed look, he stood and followed him out of the room. They stopped at a window where the guard wrote something down on a pad of paper and slipped it back to the man behind the glass, and continued on.

         “Yes. The safety of the prisoners is important to the warden. Especially in your cells. Given your cellmate’s unprompted attack, it was decided you should be moved,” the guard explained, boots clacking against the concrete floors.

         Jesse wasn’t sure how true that all was, but he’d take it. He just hoped his new cellmate wasn’t worse than the other guy. Paranoia crept up his spine. What if his new cellmate was Russel or one of his men? Or someone worse? Jesse gripped at the fabric of his pants, trying to keep his hands from shaking. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take.

         They entered C-Block and headed up the stairs. The guard led him down the walkway, stopped, and opened the cell door. “Cell 13. Home sweet home. Your toothbrush and comb were moved in here earlier. Try to get along with this one.”

         Jesse stepped around the guard and into the cell. Looking up from the ground, he froze. _“You?”_

         Mr. White nodded at the guard as the cell door slid shut, then turned his attention to Jesse. “I’m aware this isn’t ideal for you, son, but I figured the lesser of two evils would be better,” he said, his tone calm and friendly.

         The moment the guard was gone, Jesse rushed forward and shoved him. “Was this _your_ fault!?” he demanded, gesturing at his eye. “You—You did this so I would be moved in here with you! I can’t believe I actually thought you might’ve— _Why!?_ Haven’t you done enough!?”

         “Jesse, calm down,” Mr. White said, holding his hands up.

         “Don’t tell me to calm down!” Jesse went to shove him again, but Mr. White caught him and pulled him into a hug. He struggled for a moment before going limp, tired and sad and in pain.

         But he felt calmer. How did the asshole always manage to do that? Jesse blinked back the tears that threatened to spill. He wasn’t going to cry, dammit!

         “I swear to you, I had nothing to do with you getting hurt,” Mr. White soothed, petting Jesse’s hair. “However, I _did_ have you moved here. That guard, Mark, has been watching you. I noticed he seemed concerned. So I asked him to get you moved to my cell. In return I’d keep an eye out and see if I could gather any information for him regarding some drugs that have been making their way into the prison. Because of, well, my history and why I’m here, he figured I’d have the most luck getting that information for him. He’s also well aware of Eddie’s temperament, and was more than happy to move you.”

         Jesse let his fingers curl into the sides of Mr. White’s uniform. “...You really didn’t get that guy to hit me?”

         Mr. White pulled back enough to cup Jesse’s face in his hands. “I promise you I didn’t. God, the whole reason I wanted you in here was so that you _wouldn’t_ get hurt.”

         Damn him, but Jesse believed him. Mr. White sounded sincere and his expression was earnest. Jesse knew he was good at lying, but after everything… He liked to think he knew now when Mr. White was telling the truth or not. And he knew Mr. White _did_ care about him. Even if he sucked at showing it.

         Jesse’s eyes slipped shut and he sighed. “Okay.”

         “Okay. Did you get hurt anywhere else? Or is it just your face?” Mr. White asked, and when Jesse opened his eyes again he could see the concerned frown.

         “Kicked me a few times and knocked me out. But I’m fine. It’s not like I haven’t had worse, yo,” Jesse replied with a shrug. Honestly, he just kind of wanted to sleep.

         As if reading his mind—and who knew, maybe the bastard could—Mr. White led him over to the bottom bunk. “You should rest, then. I’m actually scheduled for work right now, so you can relax here without me. I’ll see you at dinner?”

         Jesse blinked up at him, then nodded and sat. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.” He sighed at the feeling of Mr. White’s fingers brushing through his hair, then squeezing his shoulder. Jesse lay down and listened to the guard’s footsteps, the creaking slide of the door, and then he was alone.

 

 

* * *

 

 

         Jesse looked over the paper he’d been handed as he followed Mr. White into their cell. Along with the other new prisoners, he’d been given a small list of jobs they were allowed to choose from. His options were: laundry, record keeping, food prep, and carpentry. Jesse really wanted to do the carpentry. He wasn’t sure if it’d be exactly like woodwork, but it was pretty close. But…if he went with laundry like Mr. White said…

_Mr. White said._ Jesse didn’t need to do what he told him. Mr. White didn’t own him, and Jesse was his own man. He could make his own decisions. Except for this one, apparently.

         With a frustrated groan, Jesse dropped the paper onto the bunk and hunched over with his head in his hands. Things weren’t too bad, not with Mr. White protecting him. So he might get stared at in the showers, and that Russell asshole kept glaring at him, but Jesse could survive it. Trying to escape would just get him in more trouble.

         “Are you okay?” Mr. White asked, stepping away from the sink where he’d been brushing his teeth.

         “Fine. Just...” Jesse ran his fingers through his hair and sat up. “I have to decide on a job by tomorrow afternoon.”

         Mr. White nodded. “I see,” he said, picking up the paper. “Which one were you thinking of?”

         Jesse knew Mr. White wanted him to say laundry, but he couldn’t. He rested his chin in his hand and stared at the floor. “I was thinking about carpentry.”

         “Really? I didn’t know you were interested in building things,” Mr. White said, setting the paper back down. He leaned back against the ladder with his arms crossed.

         “You never asked,” Jesse pointed out, but there was no heat to his words. He watched Mr. White out of the corners of his eyes. “It was either art or woodworking. What I was gonna do after school, I mean. I couldn’t figure out if I wanted to make comics, or make furniture and sculptures or whatever it is people do with wood.”

         “Hm.” Mr. White nodded slowly. “I’ve never seen your woodworking skills, but your art is quite good. Even if the subject matter left a lot to be desired. You have talent.”

         Jesse frowned. “Wait, how do you know about my art?”

         Mr. White raised an eyebrow. “Many of your assignments had drawings all over the backs. As well as your notebook.”

         “Oh.” Jesse ducked his head, cheeks heating. He’d always thought he’d managed to keep those a secret. Guess he hadn’t been as sneaky as he’d thought. Jesse’s head snapped back up. “You think I have talent?”

         “Yes. I do,” Mr. White replied with a small smile.

         Jesse looked away again, lips pulling down into a frown. “It’s not like it matters, though. I’m stuck in here. And even when I get out, who’s gonna buy art from a criminal?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

         Luke warm water rained down on Jesse’s head, trickling down his shoulders and back. He kept his eyes strait ahead, trained on the red tiled wall, and hoped for the best. That was his ritual in the showers. The distinctive sounds of sex echoed over from the other side of the wall, punctuated with pained cries. Jesse ignored it. There wasn’t anything he could do about it.

         “Hey, you sure you ain’t interested in sharing?” a voice piped up.

         Jesse glanced over to see a man covered in tattoos talking to Mr. White.

         “The answer, as always, is no,” Mr. White said, tone final and edging on dangerous.

         “Just doesn’t seem like your using him, man. It’s really a waste,” the man insisted, gaze sliding over Jesse’s body.

         Hands grabbed Jesse’s hips and hauled him backwards. He gave a shout of alarm and swung his arm back, smacking the man that had grabbed him in the face. The guy backhanded him, sending Jesse stumbling back, his head smacking against the wall. Reeling and dizzy, he felt the same hands trying to turn him around.

         A head slammed into the tiles next to him with a sickening crunch. Jesse pushed himself away as Heisenberg grabbed the man and bashed his head against the wall, again, and a third time. The tattooed guy yanked on Heisenberg’s arm, pulling him away before decking him. Jesse swung his fist at the guy, but the guy kicked his legs out from under him, sending him sprawling backwards onto the floor.

         “What the hell is going on over here?”

         Jesse looked up to see three guards approaching and scrambled to his feet. They quickly pulled the three apart.

         “This man was attempting rape,” Heisenberg snarled, pointing at the guy holding his gushing nose. He then gestured at the tattooed man. “And this one helped.”

         The closest guard looked at Jesse. “That true?”

         Jesse nodded. “Yeah.”

         The three guards exchanged looks and nods.

         “Everyone get dressed. Shower time’s over,” one of the guards snapped.

         The third guard frowned at them. “The warden will have a talk with you four.” He sent an extra glare Jesse’s way, before marching around the dividing wall to make sure the other prisoners were doing as they were told.

         They all dressed and were led out of the shower room. One of the guards gestured for Jesse, Mr. White, and the two bastards to follow him, while the rest of the prisoners went for breakfast.

         Jesse pressed himself against Mr. White’s side. He couldn’t stop shaking and his head hurt like hell. He didn’t know what the Warden would say. If he would believe him. If he would care. And if he didn’t, then Jesse wasn’t safe. Even with Mr. White doing his best to keep him safe. Maybe it wouldn’t matter even if the Warden did listen.

         “Mr. White?”

         “Yes, Jesse?”

         “I’ll take the laundry job.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments and kudos! I really do appreciate them. :)

         The cell door slid shut for the final time that day, and the guard walked away to check the other cells. Walt jumped a little as Jesse’s arms wrapped around him in a hug. After a second, he returned the embrace. He couldn’t recall if Jesse had ever initiated a hug with him, but Walt had to admit, it was nice.

         Except he could see Jesse’s shoulders shaking. Just a little. But it was enough for Walt to realize he was crying. “Jesse? What’s the matter?”

         “I don’t know,” was Jesse’s muffled reply, his face pressed against Walt’s shoulder. “Nothing. Everything?”

         Walt rubbed his back, trying to think of what to say.

         “I want to get out of here,” Jesse said after a moment. “But I just can’t… I’m so fucking weak. I dealt with worse with…Jack…and Todd… This should be easy!”

         “That’s ridiculous,” Walt said. Jesse stiffened, but before he could argue, Walt continued, “You’re not weak, Jesse. Far from it. I’ve always been…impressed by your resilience. And you got the job in the laundry, so you have the will to escape. To move on.”

         Jesse pulled away and turned his back on Walt. He rubbed at his eyes. Shrugged. “If I wasn’t weak I wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

         Walt sighed and pulled off his glasses to pinch at the bridge of his nose. Placing them back on, he reached out and placed a hand on Jesse’s shoulder. Once again, he didn’t know what to say. Walt had never been the best at comforting others.

         “You know, when the warden talked to me alone, he offered to let me get therapy or whatever here. Apparently that’s something they do.” Jesse rolled his shoulders and shook his head. “I said no.”

         “What? Why?” Walt asked with a frown.

         Turning, Jesse looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because they’d want to know everything. And if they know everything, they’d move either you or me from this cell, and then I’d be on my own. I’d be dead, yo! They for damn sure wouldn’t let me anywhere near you, and then I’d never get out of here.”

         After all this time, it really shouldn’t have been a shock to hear just how smart Jesse could be sometimes. Walt nodded. “You’re right. That’s good thinking, Jesse.”

         “Besides, man, I don’t want to talk about what happened.” Jesse dropped his gaze and sat down on his bunk. “Everything… I can’t stop reliving it all in my dreams. It’s fucking nightmares all the damn time! Always either stuck in that fucking hole or seeing Andrea...” A choked off sob stopped Jesse’s rant. He buried his face in his hands and took a shuddering breath.

         Walt perched on the edge of the bunk next to him. “…When we get out of here. When you’re safe and have a new identity, things will be—I hate to say better but—it’ll be…easier. I hope. You won’t be boxed in, you’ll have a new life, and maybe you can move on.”

         Jesse glared balefully at him out of the corner of his eyes. “What makes you think I’d be able to tell a therapist about any of it and not get immediately sent back here?”

         “You’re creative. I’m sure you could come up with a way to get all of this off your chest while omitting or changing a few details,” Walt replied. He clasped his hands together between his knees. “But that’s not something to worry about yet. We have to get out of here first. That, and I need to take care of the men from the showers.”

         “I thought you weren’t gonna kill anymore.” Jesse shook his head. “Those guys… They’re in solitary. After you beat that one guy up and got ‘em locked up, maybe they won’t try anything again.”

         “It’s not them I’m worried about,” Walt said, eyes narrowed. “If they get away with trying to hurt you, others will think they can try too. My past reputation can only do so much. If I don’t keep it up, I can’t protect you.”

         Jesse looked away with a huff.

         Walt sighed. “Jesse, I don’t want to be the man I was before. But more than that, I don’t want to see you get raped or killed. If I have to kill _one_ person to make a point and stop things from getting worse, I will.”

         “You’re gonna do what you want anyway, so, whatever, man,” Jesse muttered.

 

 

* * *

 

 

         The laundry room was like a smaller version of the one on top of the lab where Jesse had worked with Mr. White. At least, it looked that way to Jesse, what with the giant washing and drying machines. He’d been given the fun and exciting job of folding the laundry. Jesse supposed he could’ve been given the job of cleaning the machines, so, there was one upside.

         “Hey,” a voice said from behind him, causing Jesse to whip around, ready to defend himself. The young man jumped back. “Whoa! Calm down, didn’t mean to scare you.”

         Jesse relaxed just a bit. Whoever this guy was, he didn’t seem like a threat. He was slender with a round face, and strands of black hair fell into his huge brown eyes that darted back and forth around the room.

         “Who’re you?” Jesse asked after a moment, figuring that was something to start with.

         The guy scratched at his mop of hair. “Zack Riley. But most people call me Rabbit. So you can too, I guess. You’re the new guy. What’s your name, new guy?”

         “Jesse Pinkman. And you can call me Jesse.”

         Rabbit grinned. “Sure thing. I was told to show you around and point out where your station is. C’mon.” He gestured for Jesse to follow him and bounded away between the piles of laundry. “So, gonna sound cliché as hell, but what’re you in for?”

         Jesse grimaced, shimmying through a narrow gap and over to a large table. “Cooking meth, mostly… I worked with a guy. Heisenberg.” He eyed Rabbit curiously. “You?”

         “Damn, hardcore. I was wondering why you were hanging out with that guy.” Rabbit leaned against the table. “It was heroin for me. Not making it. Dealing it and taking it. And stealing some shit.”

         Crossing his arms, Jesse nodded. “You were gonna show me what I’m supposed to do? Or something?”

         “Oh yeah!” Rabbit looked around, rummaged through a green bin, and yanked out what looked like a bed sheet. He spread it out on the table. “Basically you just do that. Then fold it.” He grabbed the ends and in a tangle of arms and hands, managed to fold the sheet into a very lumpy square-ish shape. Rabbit pulled another bin into view. “Then drop it in here.”

         “That’s it?” Jesse asked, brows raised.

         “Yep,” Rabbit replied with a toothy grin. “Someone will bring the full bins over, and you just put the folded laundry in the empty ones on that side. Just keep the sheets separate from the uniforms and towels and rags separate from those. Easy.”

         “Huh.” Jesse picked up a pair of pants and began folding them. “What do you do here, then?”

         “I do the actual washing,” Rabbit said. “When the machines are all loaded up, I’ll help you fold.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

         After lunch, everyone was lined up and counted like usual. Then a guard moved to the side and called for attention. “It’s Visiting Day,” he announced, taking a clipboard from another guard. “Blum, Brown, Bower, Davis, Escobar, Foret, Gonzales, Jones, McLain, Medrano, Parker, Pinkman, and… Valentino.”

         Jesse frowned. Had his name just been called? He looked around, watching those that had been called part from the rest of the group.

         “Pinkman, get a move on,” the guard snapped, handing the clipboard back to the previous guard.

         So he _had_ heard his name. Jesse hurried to join the others, confused. He had no idea who would be visiting him, since no-one had cared to show up to his trial. Except… maybe his parents had heard and they wanted to see him? Probably just to scold him or whatever, but it meant they still cared, even if was just a little bit.

         Jesse followed the line into a well lit room filled with tables. There were a couple of vending machines in the corner by the door that—Jesse assumed—led out to the area where visitors checked in. Or whatever it was called.

         But those things weren’t really what caught his attention. His attention was fully on his visitors.

         “Yo! Jesse!” Badger exclaimed with a wide grin. “You’re still alive!”

         “Of course he’s still alive,” Skinny Pete snorted, stretching out in his chair. He smiled up at Jesse as he stopped at the table. “Hey!”

         “What… What are you guys doing here?” Jesse asked, unable to really believe his eyes. His friends were here. To see him. In prison. And they looked kind of weird without their hats or beanies or tons of layers of clothes.

         Skinny Pete rubbed the back of his neck. “We wanted to come sooner, but, like, we wanted to make sure that it wouldn’t get you in more trouble. Ya know?”

         Badger nodded, hair flopping and bouncing. “Yeah, man, there are tons of rules too! But we made it, yo!” He frowned a little. “Made us take our hats and hoodies off. Stupid. But whatever, I guess.”

         Too many emotions to name filled Jesse to the brim and he had to sit.

         “You, uh, doing okay?” Skinny Pete asked, brows furrowed. “I mean, other than the fact that your in prison. ‘cause that sucks a lot.”

         Jesse rubbed at his face, nodded. “Yeah. I guess. I’m… I’m surviving.” He shook his head and huffed a humorless laugh. “You’ll never guess who’s in here with me, though.”

         “A really hot chick?” Badger guessed eagerly.

         “Dude, this prison is just guys,” Skinny Pete said, smacking his arm.

         “Oh. Right.” Badger scratched his head. “I got nothing. Who?”

         “M—Heisenberg,” Jesse said. If he told them it was Mr. White, they wouldn’t know who that was. They’d really only ever known the guy by his fake name. “We’re in the same cell.”

         Badger and Skinny Pete exchange shocked expressions.

         “Yo, really? That’s gotta be awesome! The dude’s totally scary when he wants to be. Bet he _owns_ this place,” Badger said, laughing.

         Jesse shrugged. “He’s got a reputation, yeah. It helps.”

         “That’s tight, man,” Skinny Pete said with a nod and a smile. “Since you were his partner and all that must get you mad respect.”

         “...Yep. Yeah, totally,” Jesse replied with a half-grin. No way was he going to tell them the truth. He didn’t want them pitying him, or worse, deciding he was too pathetic to be friends with.

         Badger leaned across the table, eyes wide. “Hey, you think you’re gonna try and break out? That’d be fucking bad-ass! Just like, blowing things up and using all that chemistry shit!”

         “Jesus, shut up!” Jesse hissed, glancing around the room. Luckily none of the guards had overheard. He glared at Badger. “This isn’t some movie, man. It’s not that simple.”

         “So… that’s a yes on the break out though?” Skinny Pete whispered.

         Sighing, Jesse lowered his voice. “Yeah, it is. Heisenberg has a plan he’s working on. Or something. He still hasn’t exactly given me any details.”

         “We could help,” Badger said, his whole face lit up in excitement. “Anything you need from outside, we could just, like, sneak it in. All spy-like!”

_Huh._ Jesse had to admit, that was a good idea. Of course he’d have to talk to Mr. White first, see if it really would work. But this gave them an option they didn’t have before. Except… Was it really okay to use his friends like that? If they got caught they could end up in prison too.

         “Yeah, anything. And we’d be super careful. I mean, I’m sure Heisenberg could come up with a way it would work,” Skinny Pete added. “The last time we saw him he had this rich couple believing we were some hit-men just with a couple laser pointers.”

         “Oh yeah, that was pretty cool! He’d have an awesome plan for sure, yo,” Badger agreed.

         Jesse decided he’d get the rest of that story another time. “I’ll talk to him and let you know.” He nodded and smiled at them. “We’re allowed to get calls. So one of you can call in… five days should be good. Not suspicious. We’ll go from there, okay?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

         Walt’s mind kept running over the various records he’d been filing. Mostly he could only skim. His job was only to file them into the correct folders to be eventually sent on to the warden. If he had gotten caught reading them by the guards watching over the small group, he would likely get moved to a different job. But the records were important to his plan. Many of the ones he worked on dealt with shipments of food supplies.

         “Making progress with the task I gave you, White?” Mark asked.

         Walt looked around, and realized he was the last in the line of prisoners being brought back to their cells. He returned his gaze to the guard. “I am.” To be honest, he hadn’t. But he would make up for that eventually.

         “Good. Good,” Mark said, nodding twice. “And how is your new cellmate? You’re getting along I hope?”

         “Of course,” Walt replied. He wasn’t sure where this line of questioning was going, but it was obvious Mark had some kind of goal. Whether that goal was worth Walt’s attention or not was another thing entirely. As far as he was concerned their interactions beyond guard and prisoner should be done with.

         Mark smiled. “Excellent.” His smile faded. “How is his eye healing? It’s too bad he’d gotten hurt right before transfer. Bad luck.”

         It was like the entire world narrowed and froze. Walt turned slowly. “Bad luck?” he echoed, tone icy. If Mark had done what he thought he’d done…

         “Yes,” Mark agreed, either unknowing or uncaring about the danger radiating from Walt. “But it could’ve been worse. So maybe he’s lucky.”

         Walt had to restrain himself from punching Mark. It would only complicate things and he’d ruined too much in his life due to impulsiveness. He wouldn’t do it again. “You had Eddie beat Jesse up,” Walt growled.

         Mark turned fully to face him. The hallway they were in was empty for the moment, other than the cameras up in the corners. But they should only record visuals, not audio. “Believe me when I say it wasn’t something I wanted to do. However, there had to be a reason for the warden to move Jesse. I gave him one.”

         Turning away again, Mark led the way into C-Block. Walt couldn’t say anything further. And the hypocrisy of telling Mark off for something he himself would have done not too long ago wasn’t lost on him. Still, Walt could feel the fury heating in his chest.

         Alone in the cell, Walt paced. He had promised Jesse that he wasn’t at fault for the black eye, that it had nothing to do with getting him moved. Mark had made him a liar. Now… Now he had to decided whether to tell Jesse what he’d just learned or not.

         Jesse might not ever find out if Walt didn’t say anything. And it was just a black eye. He’d forget about it pretty quickly. And if Walt told him what had happened, there was a high probability that Jesse would think he’d lied the entire time and had actually planned for Jesse to get injured, just enough to require he be moved.

         Walt supposed Jesse might also understand that it hadn’t been his intention for that to happen. But that was slim. Chances were, Jesse would point out that if Walt had just left well enough alone, he wouldn’t have gotten hurt at all. Not that that was necessarily true. Walt was quite sure that if he had just let things run their course, Eddie would have attacked Jesse at some point anyway. And a lot more severely.

         No. What Walt had done was for the best. That much was clear. But he still wasn’t any closer to deciding whether or not Jesse should know. Take the safe route, or the hard but honest route?


	5. Chapter 5

         The guys from the shower had been let out of solitary. Jesse tried to keep from vibrating out of his seat with nervous energy, watching as Mr. White passed the guy without the tattoos on his way through the cafeteria. He winced as the guy shoulder checked Mr. White, but relaxed when it didn’t get a response worse than a glare.

         “So, Jesse, you had something you wanted to tell me last night?” Mr. White asked, sitting down.

         Jesse poked at his breakfast with his fork. “You aren’t gonna snap at me again, are you?”

         Mr. White sighed. “I won’t. Something came up during work and...” He shook his head. “Go ahead. What is it?”

         “Uh, you know I had a visitor yesterday, right?” Jesse started, feeling a little better now that he knew he hadn’t done something to piss him off.

         “I do,” Mr. White replied, taking a bite of rubbery scrambled egg.

         Plucking at his pant leg, Jesse said, “Badger and Skinny Pete visited me.”

         Mr. White’s eyebrow rose. “Really? I would’ve thought it was your parents.”

         Jesse dropped his gaze to the table. “Nah. I don’t even know if they know I’m here.” He shrugged and leaned across the table, looking up at Mr. White and lowering his voice. “Anyway, they offered to, like, help us get out of here.”

         For a moment, Mr. White just sort of frowned at him. “They’re serious?”

         “Yeah,” Jesse said, rolling his eyes. “I mean, they seemed pretty serious about it—”

         A commotion across the cafeteria stopped Jesse in his tracks. They turned to see the guy from the showers fall from his seat, choking. He writhed and vomited, blood splattering the floor. He clawed at his throat, struggling to breathe, before collapsing. Guards rushed over, but it looked to be too late.

         The guards not by the guy’s body jumped into action, getting everyone into lines and sending them back to their cells. Prisoners were to stay in their cells until told otherwise.

         Jesse looked up at Mr. White with wide eyes. “I… I thought you weren’t going to do shit like that anymore! How did you even…?”

         “Some ice packs contain ammonium nitrate, though more often it is used in fertilizer and explosive mixtures for mining, mostly. So as you can imagine, ingesting it is one of the worst things you can do,” Mr. White explained. “I luckily had a syringe in here—my previous cellmate had quite a number hidden around—and I extracted just a small amount from your ice pack. I thought it could be useful some day.”

         No words came to Jesse, and he was unable to do anything more than gape at him, horrified.

         Mr. White frowned. “Don’t look at me like that. What was I supposed to do, huh? That man tried to rape you,” he growled, hands clenching in front of him. They relaxed and dropped back to his sides. He sighed. “There had to be consequences, or others would try the same. So long as no-one else thinks they can get away with it, there won’t be a need to resort to such drastic measures again.”

         Jesse turned away and leaned his head against a wall. Why did he have to feel so damn confused all the time? Mr. White had killed someone. Again. But that guy _had_ tried to rape him. Jesse didn’t feel bad about the guy dying, exactly. It was more that he had been hoping—stupidly—that Mr. White would change.

         Then again, it had been an extreme situation. Despite his disappointment, Jesse understood that in here Mr. White needed to keep up appearances. He hadn’t killed the other asshole… That was different, right? Heisenberg would’ve killed them both.

         “Jesse,” Mr. White sighed, his voice closer than Jesse had expected and he felt a large hand on his back. He was quiet for a few seconds, then, “I don’t know how to make you understand. It might be too much to ask for.”

         “I _do_ get it, though,” Jesse replied, turning back around to face him. “It’s just… I don’t know, Mr. White. It’s complicated, yeah?”

         Mr. White nodded, smiled a little, and gently patted his shoulder. “Why don’t we move on from the subject, and you tell me more about your conversation with your friends?”

         “Yeah. Sure.” Jesse pushed off from the wall and sat on the bottom bunk instead. “I mean, I already told you most of it. But I said I’d talk to you first, since you have a plan and all, then I told them to make a call in five days. Waiting too long seemed like a bad idea, but I figured sooner than that would be, like, suspicious.”

         “…That was smart, Jesse. Good job,” Mr. White said. He actually sounded a little impressed. Mr. White crossed his arms and he frowned at the floor, thinking. Tapping his arm, he paced a little, then he stopped by the bunks. “They could definitely be useful, so long as they do _exactly_ what we tell them. We just have to keep the instructions simple… Okay, we’ll need to have this set up so they are seen to be of no concern.” He gave a frustrated sigh. “It’ll take a while, but it would be worth it.”

         “Okaaayyy, so, what does that mean?” Jesse asked, arching an eyebrow.

         Mr. White nodded to himself, then turned his attention to Jesse. “It means, for the first—let’s say seven—visits and calls, they are exactly that: visits and calls. Nothing unusual. If there is something they can bring you, that would work in our favor. That way we know exactly what is allowed and not allowed, and I’ll be able to plan for what they can bring us that I can use.”

         It made sense. Jesse wasn’t sure if there really was anything he wanted that he’d be allowed to have, though. But he had five days to think about it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

         “Damn, you’re really good at folding those sheets. It took me forever to get it right,” Rabbit said, wheeling over another bin of laundry.

         Jesse shrugged. “I used to do it all the time for my aunt.” As always, thinking of his aunt only made him sad. If she knew where he was now, she’d be so disappointed. Not that he would’ve blamed her.

         “For chores or something?” Rabbit asked, joining him with the folding.

         “She was sick, and I helped out,” Jesse replied. He really didn’t want to talk about it.

         Rabbit made a sympathetic sound in the back of his throat. “Sorry.”

         “It’s fine.”

         The whir and clank of the machines were the only sounds after that.

         “You’re pretty lucky, you know?” Rabbit said out of the blue, tossing a sheet into the folded bin.

         Jesse frowned at him. “What makes you say that?”

         Rabbit’s shoulders jumped up and down in a quick shrug. “Heisenberg doesn’t share you.”

         “Huh?” Jesse stopped his folding and turned to him. “What do you mean share me?”

         Rolling his eyes, Rabbit faced him. “You know what I mean. For guys like us, prison is a fucking nightmare. You have the protection of Heisenberg. And he doesn’t even _hit_ you! At least, not where anybody else can see.”

         Jesse grimaced, feeling a little sick. He realized it must have been Rabbit he’d heard on the other side of the wall that day. The guy was right, in a way, Jesse _was_ lucky. And that was probably the first time he’d felt that way about having any kind of connection to Mr. White. Jesse wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

         “You don’t suppose he’d be willing to protect someone else?” Rabbit’s hesitant voice broke through Jesse’s confused thoughts.

         “Uh...” Jesse wasn’t sure how to answer that without upsetting Rabbit. “Sorry, I really don’t think so. He barely puts up with me.”

         “Oh.” Rabbit scratched at his hair. He smiled and gave a forced laugh. “Yeah, I figured. Just thought I’d ask, just in case. Don’t worry about it.”

         Of course, that just made Jesse feel bad. “Look, I can’t promise anything, and it’ll probably be a no, but… I’ll ask him. Okay?”

         Rabbit’s smile was a little more genuine that time. “Thanks, dude. I’d appreciate it, even if it doesn’t work out.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

         Badger slid Jesse’s sketchbook to him across the table. “This was a pain to get, yo. The police almost didn’t let me have it. And then I had to wait and get permission to give it you,” he explained.

         “Thanks, man,” Jesse said with a grin as he picked up the sketchbook. It was Badger’s and Skinny Pete’s third visit, so Jesse figured it had been fine to ask them for something. Besides, the sketchbook was the only thing of any real value to him. “It gets super boring in here sometimes.”

         “Really?” Badger asked, eyes wide. “How is prison boring?”

         Jesse snorted. “I work in a laundry and, yeah, there’s a rec room thing and sometimes we get to go outside, but there’s only so much to do during those times.”

         “Damn. That does sound boring,” Skinny Pete agreed with a shake of his head. He rubbed his hands together and sat forward a little. “Oh, and you know that thing you wanted us to check out?”

         “Yeah?” Jesse replied, trying to glance around casually to see if the guards were listening in. They weren’t. He flipped though his sketchbook, not really looking at the pictures. “Did you find something out?”

         “Bad news, man,” Badger said with a shrug. “That hide-out place was full of cops. Probably got whatever money was there.”

         Skinny Pete nodded. “Guess there’s a lot of shit there they want. You’d think they’d be done with the place by now, but nah.”

         Jesse sighed. Mr. White was going to be pissed. He rubbed his hands over his face. “Okay. Thanks, guys.”

         “No problem, yo.” Badger drummed his hands against the table. “Anything else you want us to do? Or that Heisenberg wants us to do?”

         “Not yet. Maybe next time,” Jesse replied.

 

 

* * *

 

 

         “So...” Jesse drawled, rocking back and forth on his feet. “I told you I was working with someone in laundry, right?”

         Mr. White, who had been reading on his bunk, looked down at him. “You did. He has some animal name, right? Rat or something?”

         “Rabbit.”

         “And?”

         Jesse rubbed the back of his neck. “I already told him you’d say no, but I agreed to ask anyway.”

         “ _What_ exactly did you say you’d ask me?” Mr. White shut his book and climbed down the ladder.

         “Look, he said that he noticed you protect me and stuff, so he was wondering if you’d protect him as well. He’s always getting passed around by a bunch of guys and it’s really shitty, yo. But I know you have no reason to, I figured I’d ask anyway, though,” Jesse babbled.

         Mr. White shook his head. “I don’t even know where to start with that… But you’re right, the answer is no. We don’t know who he is, and while I agree what he’s going through is awful, it’s none of our business.”

         Jesse shrugged. “He’s been nice…”

         “Nice. You barely know him. What’s he in here for, hmm? Did he tell you?” Mr. White asked, his eyes narrowed.

         “Yeah, actually, he did,” Jesse retorted. “He got caught dealing heroin and stealing. That’s it.”

         “That’s it,” scoffed Mr. White, throwing his hands up. “I’m not even going to bother explaining why trusting him is a bad idea. I’d like to think that at this point, you could figure it out.”

         “Because he’s a junkie? News flash, Mr. White, so was I! But here we are!” Jesse snapped. Yeah, he never wanted anything to do with heroin ever again, but that didn’t mean people who used it were bad. And Rabbit had been here for a while, at least longer than both of them, so he was probably clean. But Jesse didn’t feel like arguing about it.

         And neither, it seemed, did Mr. White. “Your friends were visiting you today, yes?”

         Jesse nodded. “Yeah. Badger managed to bring me my sketchbook.”

         “Hm. Well, it’ll be good for you to have something to do when nothing else is going on,” Mr. White said. He tapped his fingers against the rungs of the bunk ladder. “And the compound? Did they manage to get any information on that?”

         Stealing himself, Jesse nodded again. “Yeah, they did.” He sighed. “The police have been all over it. The money’s probably gone. Or will be by the time we’d get to it.”

         “Dammit!” Mr. White growled, pacing. “All that money, _gone!”_

         Jesse ran his fingers through his hair. “What’s the big deal, Mr. White? It’s just money. We weren’t using it in here.”

         Mr. White rounded on him. “What’s the big deal? That money could have given you a better chance at a new life, that is what the “big deal” is,” he snapped. “How else are you supposed to get a new identity? Or clothes? Or food? Once we get out of here you’ll have nothing but the clothes on your back.”

         “Oh.” Jesse could see his point. “I mean, I guess I could just…steal some food? And clothes? It wouldn’t be the worst thing I’ve done.”

         “Maybe, but that would solve only two of your problems,” Mr. White said, arms crossed. “That still leaves the fact that you’d have no ID, and that’s where everything will fall apart.”

         Jesse groaned and let his head drop back against the brick wall of the cell. “I’ll figure it out, okay? Once I’m out of _here_ , in some other state, I’ll make it work.” He could see Mr. White didn’t look convinced. “What? You don’t think I can?”

         Mr. White set his hands on his hips. “I think it would go downhill fast. You could _maybe_ sell your art on the street, but how much money do you think that would get you? Certainly not enough for a forged identity.”

         “I don’t _know!”_ Jesse dropped his face into his hands. “I don’t know. Fuck… There’s gotta be something I can do?” But he didn’t know what. He didn’t even know where to start. Every time Jesse had been left to do his own shit, he screwed up. For all he knew, once he got out he’d just end up using again, or get mugged and killed for whatever money he might be able to scrape together.

         Hands rested on his arms. “The money is gone. There’s no point dwelling on that aspect any more,” Mr. White said, his tone gentle. “I’ll figure it out, Jesse. Just leave the thinking to me, alright? I’ll handle everything.”

         Jesse gave a small nod.

         “Good.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, a big thank you to everyone who's left a comment or kudos! You guys are awesome. :)  
> I hope you all enjoy the chapter.

         Jesse felt like a nervous wreck. It had been a week and neither the warden or the guards were after Mr. White for murdering that one guy; and it could’ve been that they really didn’t have any leads, but still, he was worried that they might just suddenly figure it out and then… Jesse had no clue what would happen if they did find out, but he knew it wouldn’t be good. Mr. White didn’t seem overly concerned about anyone finding out, though. But who knew if that was just because the guy was cocky as shit, or whether he knew for a fact that the murder wouldn’t be pinned on him.

         Sighing, Jesse fished his sketchbook and a pencil out from under his pillow. He sat up, folding his legs beneath himself, and flipped it open. Going through his old drawings filled Jesse with bittersweet nostalgia. Part of him wished he could just go back to being a stupid kid. He sighed again.

         The cell door opened and Mr. White walked inside, back from his filing job. Jesse could only imagine how fucking mind numbing that was. “Hey.”

         “You realize you could be out in the yard and not in here, right?” Mr. White pointed out, glancing over his shoulder to watch the guard walk away. He turned back to Jesse.

         “I know. I’d rather be in here instead. Who wants to be around those assholes, you know?” Jesse replied with a shrug, drumming his pencil against the page of his sketchbook. He looked back down and gave a start. Jesse hadn’t realized what the page he’d stopped on was; “Team S.C.I.E.N.C.E” was scrawled across the top, and underneath were the characters in their superhero poses.

         “What’s that?”

         Jesse jumped. He looked up at Mr. White, feeling his cheeks heat up. “Oh, uh...” Jesse’s grip tightened on his sketchbook.

         Mr. White shook his head and made to leave. “Never mind.”

         “No, wait!” Jesse groaned internally at himself. He sighed and held out the sketchbook. “You can see it, I just… it’s kinda old, okay?”

         For a moment, Mr. White stared at him. Then he took the sketchbook. And said nothing. Jesse fidgeted as the silence stretched on. It had probably been a bad idea, of course Mr. White would think it was stupid.

         “What is this?” Mr. White asked. He didn’t sound annoyed, merely curious.

         “I was making a comic book. Or a show. I hadn’t really decided yet,” Jesse said. “It kinda just started out as doodles, turning people I knew into superheros? And I was learning a lot of cool science things from you, so it was really easy to make you into this bad-ass superhero called Dr. Chemistry!” The more Jesse talked about it, the less self-conscious he felt. He stood and pointed at the drawing. “And there’s Rewindo who can rewind time! And Badger can turn into an actual badger, Skinny Pete is so skinny that when he turns sideways he disappears, Combo can multiply himself, um, there’s Kangaman and his sidekick Joey who I made before the others, but I really wanted to add them in. Figured they’d fit in with everyone. And then...” He trailed off, looking at Apology Girl. Jesse sighed and sat back down. “Anyway, yeah...”

         Mr. White closed the sketchbook and sat beside him. “It sounds like you put a lot of thought into it,” he commented.

         Jesse nodded. “Yeah. I mean, Badger and I made a sort of animated trailer for it a one point, he knew a guy who knew how to do that sort of thing with computers. I really wanted to show it to you, since it _was_ for you.” And he should’ve kept his mouth shut. Jesse just knew he was blushing now, so he ducked his head, hoping to hide it.

         “For me?”

         When Jesse raised his head he could see Mr. White’s shocked expression. He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck.

         Mr. White shook his head, passed a hand over his mouth, then looked back at Jesse. “I don’t know why you would do that, Jesse. But… I’m flattered.”

         “Yeah?” Jesse asked, sitting up straighter.

         “Yeah.” A genuine smile crossed Mr. White’s lips and he patted Jesse’s knee.

 

 

* * *

 

 

         Walt worked through the files he’d been given, but he wasn’t truly paying them much attention, he already had the information he needed from them. Instead, his mind was focused on fleshing out his plan. There were still a lot of unknown variables to it, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. Of course, he would have to explain it all to Jesse soon. He seemed to understand the fact that Walt was keeping it a secret to keep him safe; if the plan fell apart and Jesse was questioned, the less he knew the better.

         Things were actually progressing better than expected. Walt hadn’t planned for outside help, but it was going to prove very valuable indeed. The next time Jesse met with Badger and Skinny Pete would be when he’d need to give them precise instructions, and that was worrying. Yes, the two had been able to accomplish simple enough missions, but that hadn’t required them getting around prison guards.

         Then there was the matter of Jesse’s acquaintance in the laundry room. Walt sighed and rubbed his temples, filed another folder, and shook his head. Rabbit could be potentially useful. According to Jesse he did a majority of the actual washing, which meant he was the one handling the detergent and, most importantly, the bleach. Walt held no doubts about Jesse’s ability to befriend the man and gain his trust. No, what concerned Walt was whether he’d be someone they could trust to be in on the plan. And just how much they’d have to promise in order for him to stay quiet, if not help.

         Walt supposed they could bring him along. At least as far as out of state, and then drop him off and leave him to his own devices. It wasn’t ideal, but if it got them out, then it would be worth it. But that was, of course, only if it came to that. There was always a chance Jesse could just steal some bleach without anyone knowing anything. Walt hoped for that outcome, it would be the least upsetting to Jesse.

 

 

* * *

 

 

         Free time was being held inside today. Walt glanced at Jesse, then over at the empty chess table. “Have you played before?”

         Jesse scoffed. “Uh, yeah, I’m not _that_ stupid. I mean, it was only with my Aunt, though,” he replied. He squinted up at Walt. “Why? Are you actually asking me to play chess with you? I’d lose, yo, what’s the point?”

         Walt smirked. “You won’t know unless you try, right?”

         “I _guess_ … Sure! But you’ll regret it when I beat your old ass,” Jesse taunted, jogging over to the table.

         Shaking his head, Walt followed. He set up the pieces, with Jesse taking the white and Walt the black. “You said you played this with your Aunt. Do you remember what pieces do what?”

         “Mmm...” Jesse studied the board. “Well, the little ones in front are the pawns and they can only move one space at a time, like the King. But the Queen can basically do whatever. I remember that.” He picked up one of pieces. “The horse moves in a certain shape, right?”

         Walt rolled his eyes. “It’s a knight, and yes it moves in an L shape.”

         “Whatever. Then you’ve got the pointy guy and the castle. I remember the castle was kinda like the Queen but can’t go diagonally, and… the pointy guy moves diagonally only!” Jesse grinned, looking proud of himself.

         “The “pointy guy” as you so eloquently put it is a bishop—the pointy part is meant to be a bishop’s hat—but you’re right,” Walt replied with a small smile. “And the castle is a rook.”

         Jesse groaned. “Yeah, okay, I don’t care what they’re called. Knowing what they do is all that matters. Can we start?”

         “Yes, fine,” Walt agreed. “Go ahead.”

 

         “Dammit!” Jesse slumped back in his chair after losing for a second time. “I don’t know why I agreed to this.”

         Walt reset the pieces. “Are you actually trying or just giving up?” he asked, looking at him over the rim of his glasses.

         “Fuck off, of course I’m trying,” Jesse snapped, crossing his arms.

         “Then try again. You know the saying, third time’s the charm,” Walt said, gesturing at the board. “You definitely won’t beat me if you give up now.”

         Jesse glared at him, though it wasn’t particularly heated. He sighed and sat forward again. “Might as well. Got nothing better to do, man.”

 

         The white knight clacked against the chessboard, effectively cutting off any chance of escape for the black king.

         “Checkmate!” Jesse whooped, jumping to his feet. _“Yeah!_ Take that, _bitch!”_

         Walt surged up, grabbed Jesse by the scruff of his neck, and pushed him against the nearby wall. Jesse’s eyes widened and he held up his hands to defend himself. But Walt just kept him in place, using his larger frame to block him from view. “I’m going to pretend to hit you and you’d better react.”

         Jesse just barely managed to do as he was told as Walt pretended to backhand him across the face, completing the effect with a discrete clap of his hands to add convincing sound. Jesse looked up at him with a baffled glare. “What the hell, man?” he asked, tone hushed.

         “You can’t just yell something like that,” Walt said, frowning. “Not without consequences.”

         “Like what?”

         Walt huffed. “Your oh so colorful catchphrase. “Bitch”? Is it so ingrained in your vernacular that you don’t even realize when you say it?”

         Jesse blinked at him. “Yo, I didn’t even mean it like that. It was just kinda, you know, a heat of the moment thing.”

_“I_ know that, but the others do not,” Walt explained, exasperated. He sighed and stepped back a little. “Congratulations on your win.” And he meant it. Walt hadn’t actually expected him to win, so he was a little proud. Maybe Jesse had been learning from him while they’d played.

         For a moment, Jesse just stared at him. Then he snorted and walked around him. “You’re so weird.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

         Walt startled awake. He blinked and adjusted his glasses as he listened for whatever had woken him up. Then he heard it: a loud whimper drifted up from the bottom bunk. A soft cry followed it, along with creaking and shuffling. Frowning, Walt crept down the ladder.

         Jesse was tossing and turning in his sleep. In the faint light drifting into the cell, Walt could just make out the tears rolling down his cheeks. It was not a sight he enjoyed. He leaned over and gently pressed a hand to Jesse’s shoulder.

         “Jesse, wake up.”

         With a gasp, Jesse’s eyes snapped open and he jolted backwards into the wall. “Wha-!?”

         Walt backed off a little. “Jesse, relax. It’s just me. You were having a nightmare.”

         “Huh?” Jesse rubbed at his face and, little by little, relaxed. “’m sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you up,” he mumbled.

         “It’s fine,” Walt assured. But that left him with the decision of how to proceed. Did he go back to bed and pretend nothing happened? Or did he offer to comfort Jesse in some way? Walt recalled that, back when Junior was little and had nightmares, he often wouldn’t be able to sleep until either Skylar or himself stayed with him.

         “Mr. White?”

         Walt could see, even in the gloom, that Jesse looked moments away from crying again. He sat down. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be right here.”

         Jesse’s eyes widened and his brows rose. “You, uh, don’t have to...” His tone—if Walt wasn’t too tired to mistake it—was cautiously hopeful, despite his protest.

         “I wouldn’t have offered if it was a problem,” Walt insisted, gesturing for Jesse to lay back down. After a couple of seconds, Jesse did so.

         He shifted a little, grimaced, shifted again, sighed. “It feels weird with you sitting there staring at me,” Jesse muttered petulantly.

         Walt sighed and lay down beside him. Or tried. It was a tight fit with him on his back, even if Jesse was on his side. Walt rolled over so that he was facing Jesse, who opened his mouth, then shut it. He twisted around so his back was to Walt.

         “Better?” Walt asked, shuffling a little closer so he wasn’t hanging off the side of the bunk.

         “A little.” A quiet huff, then Jesse was speaking again, voice wavering just a little. “I was back in the hole.”

         “Hole?” Walt repeated with a frown. He vaguely remembered Jesse mentioning a hole before, but not expanding on it.

         Jesse gave a little nod. “Where Todd and Jack kept me.” His body trembled. “I was chained up again. Just watching them shoot Andrea over and over...”

         There was nothing Walt could say to that. He knew, of course, that Jesse had been tortured, but he hadn’t known about him being kept in some hole. It was his fault. Walt regretted it, but that didn’t change things. He reached over and gently rubbed Jesse’s arm. Once he felt some tension ease, he drew his hand back.

         Except now Walt wasn’t sure what to do with his own arms in this position. Jesse might not appreciate being spooned. So that left one awkwardly wedged between them.

         Until Walt realized just how close to Jesse’s ass his hand now was.

_Screw it._ Grumbling to himself, Walt slung his arm around Jesse’s waist. Jesse tensed, then settled with a sigh that was almost content. Gradually, Jesse’s breath evened out until Walt could feel the steady rise and fall of his back against his chest.

         It had been too long since he’d shared a bed with someone. He’d missed it. Walt let his eyes drift shut, falling asleep moments later, a smile across his lips.


	7. Chapter 7

         Warm and safe. Sleep faded from Jesse, leaving him soft and more relaxed than he’d been in way too long. A familiar, but hard to describe scent kept him in that drifting space between being awake and asleep.

         Sighing, Jesse blinked his eyes open. Only for his vision to be filled with orange. He tipped his head back. Jesse bit back what would’ve been a very manly scream when he saw he’d been cuddled up to Mr. White. Who was still asleep. _Thank fuck._

         Jesse looked down, then over his shoulder, then sighed again and relaxed. With the way Mr. White was holding him, there was no way to sneak out without waking him up. He _could_ do that, but it would be super embarrassing. Not that it was his fault, Jesse couldn’t control what he did when he was asleep.

         Then again, it didn’t feel bad where he was, tucked against Mr. White’s larger body. He looked back up. Jesse bit his lip to control the grin tugging at his lips. Mr. White had fallen asleep with his glasses on, and now they were laying crooked across his nose. He was pretty sure the one and only time he’d seen Mr. White sleep was that one day where he’d been obsessed with that stupid fly.

         Jesse yawned and curled up against Mr. White, tucking his head up under his chin like it had been when he’d woken up, with the slight scratch of Mr. White’s beard against his temple. It was stupidly nice. His mind wandered back to the night before. Honestly, he was surprised Mr. White had stayed with him through the night, or even come down to see what was wrong in the first place. That he then decided to apologize and hold him was just… Well, Jesse had never expected it.

         In fact, Mr. White had been weirdly nice to him the entire time they’d been in prison. Yeah, the chess thing had been a bit mean, but Jesse understood his point. It was strange, but it did seem like Mr. White was actually capable of change. Maybe only a little bit, but to Jesse it was something. Especially when it seemed like the change was for him especially.

         Mr. White’s breathing changed, his fingers flexed against Jesse’s back, and he made a quiet sound as he woke. Jesse snapped his eyes shut. _Crap._ He forced himself to relax and breathe slowly, faking sleep.

         It worked. Jesse felt him stiffen, but only for a moment. A hand moved from around Jesse, and there was a quiet clicking sound that he assumed was Mr. White’s glasses being adjusted. But then, instead of immediately trying to get up like Jesse thought he would, he lightly stroked Jesse’s hair. Mr. White eased Jesse onto his back and sat up, shifting to the edge of the bunk.

         “Jesse,” Mr. White said softly, shaking his shoulder.

         Jesse “woke up” and rubbed at his eyes. “Huh?” He felt the mattress lift a little as Mr. White stood.

         “The guards will be starting the wake up call soon,” said Mr. White, walking over to the sink to brush his teeth.

         Sitting up, Jesse looked out of the cell to see that Mr. White was right. The sun hadn’t quite risen, but it was getting lighter out from what he could see through the distant windows. And sure enough, a few minutes later the guards started banging on the cell doors and telling everyone to wake up.

         Once the guard had passed their cell, Mr. White spoke again. “Your friends are meeting with you in three days, yes?”

         “Uh, yeah,” Jesse replied.

         “Good. We’re putting the plan into motion then.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

         Rabbit tossed a folded pair of pants into the bin. “If you’ve got something to say, you can just say it, you know?” he said mildly.

         Jesse flinched. He’d been watching Rabbit out of the corner of his eye since he’d rolled over two bins worth of laundry. “I was just wondering something.”

         “Uh-huh?” Rabbit prompted, tilting his head.

         “Have you ever, uh, thought about…breaking out?” Jesse asked, trying to sound casual and not at all like he was talking about something that could get them in trouble.

         Rabbit snorted. “Who hasn’t?” he replied with a half-grin. It quickly disappeared. “Wait. You’re not actually thinking of trying, are you?”

         Jesse licked his lips and binned some folded laundry. “Would you rat on me if I was?”

         “No! No, ‘course not,” Rabbit said, wide eyes getting impossibly wider. “Just… Well, it’s dangerous, man. I mean, I heard one guy tried, got as far as getting past the walls, but then just got shot”—he mimed shooting himself in the head _—“_ right in the head.”

         “I get the concern, but I’m not working alone,” Jesse said, returning to his folding. “Heisenberg has a plan.”

         Rabbit fidgeted, then grabbed a sheet from the laundry. “He comes up with good plans?”

         “Depends on what you mean by good,” Jesse snorted. But now wasn’t the time to be snarky. “Yeah, usually. Like, what have you heard about him?”

         “Just that he was a super hardcore meth cook,” Rabbit said. “Killed a lot of people. And rumor is he killed Manuel.”

         “Who?”

         “That guy in the cafeteria a couple weeks ago? The one who choked to death?”

         “Oh. Him.” Jesse wasn’t sure if he should admit Mr. White did that, but there was nothing wrong with mentioning the things he was already in prison for, right? “Yeah, you’re right he killed a lot of guys out there. Most of them were like, top level drug guys and part of the cartel. All with science and through his crazy-ass plans and luck.”

_“Cartel?”_ Rabbit whistled, impressed. “No wonder no-one messed with the dude… I guess if anyone could break you out, it’d be him, then.”

         Jesse nodded. “Anyway, I brought it up because we could use your help. And not for nothing, either! He said he’d let you come with us if we can make it out. At least until we get to a safe place, and then you’d go wherever it is you want to go.”

         Rabbit’s jaw dropped. “Seriously? You’d take me with you? No joke?”

         “Yeah,” Jesse said with a smile. He gave a little “oof” when Rabbit smacked him on the back.

         “Dude! You’re the best!” Rabbit exclaimed. “How can I help?”

         Jesse looked around. “How easily can you sneak some bleach out of here?” he asked, voice low.

         Rabbit grinned.

 

 

* * *

 

 

         Skinny Pete was the only one waiting for Jesse when he arrived in the visitor’s room. They bumped fists and Jesse sat across from him as usual.

         “Hey, man. Badger couldn’t make it today. He’s buying that new car he told you about when he called,” Skinny Pete said, stretching his legs out under the table.

         “The junker, right?” Jesse asked.

         Skinny Pete nodded. “Yep. Didn’t wanna pay too much for it, you know? Figured he could fix it up or something. Or get his cousin to.” He scratched at his chin. “Oh yeah, also I couldn’t bring you any food. The rules say I can only buy stuff from here and give it you.”

         “Damn. Really?” Jesse frowned a little in disappointment.

         “Church. And, like, the stuff here’s kinda expensive,” Skinny Pete said with a shrug and a shake of his head. “Sorry, man.”

         Jesse crossed his arms. “Nah, it’s fine. I’m not really hungry.”

         “Yo, I been thinking about asking but...” Skinny Pete leaned forward against the table. “You been okay in here? I mean, your black eye is gone but you’ve still got that dope scar. Guess it wasn’t fun getting it, but it looks badass.”

         Grimacing, Jesse rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t from here. And I’m fine.” He sighed and let his hand drop to the table. Jesse could see the concern in Skinny Pete’s eyes and felt kind of like an ass. Really, his friends were pretty damn awesome. “Uh, I probably should wait until Badger here’s too, but I really wanted to say sorry, man.”

         Skinny Pete tilted his head. “Sorry? For what?”

         “For a lot. Like, I got you both involved in all this shit,” Jesse replied. “You and Badger were even gonna get clean, and I fucked it up for you. And now you’re here… I’m a shitty friend, yo, but you guys have always been there for me.”

         There was a few moments of silence as Skinny Pete took in what he said. “Heavy,” was what he eventually said. “You don’t gotta apologize, dude. Like, we’re adults, we made our own choices, yeah? You’re an awesome friend.”

         Jesse smiled, though whether it was because he was relieved or because he couldn’t believe Skinny Pete didn’t see how toxic Jesse was, he didn’t know. He cleared his throat and sat back. “Wow, I got all sappy there,” Jesse laughed. “Being in prison does shit to you.”

         “It’s all good,” Skinny Pete said, laughing as well. “I’ll make sure to drag Badger with next time. Try not to go crazy ‘til then, yeah?”

         “Yeah.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

         The cool December wind ruffled Walt’s hair as he and Jesse walked along the perimeter of the yard. According to the warden, the chill would be good for them from time to time.

         “You said your friends could buy you things from the prison itself?” Walt asked. Yet again he would have to re-work his plan, which was expected, but that didn’t make it any less annoying. Though, it would have been difficult to sneak aluminum foil anywhere to be fair. Perhaps this was a good thing.

         Jesse nodded, tucking his hands into his armpits. “Yeah. That’s not gonna be a huge problem, is it?”

         Walt frowned, staring out at the high walls of the prison, and the looming desert mountains in the distance. There had to be a way to get what they needed, and without raising suspicion. Small and easily molded. “What do they sell for food and drink? Any soda?”

         “Uhh… I think they sell soda,” Jesse replied. “Why?”

         “In what way? Cans? Plastic bottles?” Walt asked, turning his head to look at Jesse directly.

         Jesse shrugged. “I remember seeing both. More plastic bottles, but there were a couple of cans.”

         Walt stopped in his tracks. “You need to have your friends buy you the cans of soda. Specifically the cans.”

         “Why?” Jesse asked, squinting up at him. He brought his hand above his eyes to block the sun.

         “What are soda cans made of?”

         “...Metal?”

         Walt nodded. “Yes, but what kind of metal?”

         Jesse’s brow furrowed. “Really weak metal?”

         Breathing in through his nose and closing his eyes, Walt tried to keep from snapping. He sighed. _“Aluminum._ Soda cans are made of _aluminum,_ ” he explained. Of course, the difficult thing would be to grind the aluminum from those cans into a powder. He’d deal with that when they got there, though.

         “Ohhhh… Right. Yeah, I get it,” Jesse said with a nod. “But, uh, a couple things. How am I supposed to sneak you some soda cans? Wouldn’t that be obvious? Also, why aluminum? I know you wanted the foil, but you still haven’t told me what this is all for.”

         Walt resumed walking through the yard. “Do you remember when we made the thermite?”

         “Thermite? Whoa, wait, that shit we used to bust open that lock for the methylamine?” Jesse asked, tone hushed and eyes wide.

         “Exactly,” Walt replied, grinning. “If I can grind down what aluminum we get into a powder, that will be the main component. I’ve got a handle on the rest of the ingredients.”

         Jesse ran his fingers through his hair. “Jesus… But what’s the bleach for then? I don’t remember that being part of the thermite?”

         “One step at a time,” Walt said, patting Jesse on the back. “Let’s just focus on getting the aluminum first. And to do that, you won’t need to steal the whole can.” He smiled down at Jesse, who looked a little puzzled.


	8. Chapter 8

         The Christmas spirit was in short supply this year. At least for Walt. Despite the paper snowflakes and tinsel hung up in the rec room, the sports on the grainy TV, and the bingo game going on, he didn’t feel like celebrating. The cheery tune of Jingle Bell Rock only grated on his nerves.

         It was the first time in twenty years he’d be spending Christmas without Skyler or Junior.

         Walt knew there was no point dwelling on it. In fact, he should be trying to get used to it, since he knew that this would be a regular thing for however long he lived. He just hoped Junior and Holly were having a good Christmas. Marie had probably gone crazy with the decorations again, and made sure both got far too many presents. Possibly even more than usual, trying to distract everyone and herself from what Walt had done to them.

         “Yo, Mr. White!”

         Startled, Walt turned and looked down at Jesse, who had sidled up beside him by the wall. He was holding up a gingerbread man decorated with icing and gum drops.

         “They’re giving everyone cookies. How dope is that?” Jesse asked, grinning. “Figured you were being too much of a Grinch to grab one, so I got one for you.”

         Though Walt wasn’t a huge fan of gingerbread, he took the cookie anyway. “Thank you,” he said, genuinely appreciating the gesture.

         Jesse shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Anyway, I heard we’re getting ham tonight! Like, actual ham, and not that fake “meat” they always feed us.” He bit the head off his own cookie. “Mmf-gh hmmmng, fmmghmm.”

         Walt frowned. “Would you like to repeat that when your mouth _isn’t_ full?”

         Jesse flipped him off, but swallowed his bite. “I said, “might actually be nice, for prison”.”

         “Ah.” Walt felt a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yes. It might be.”

         “Oh yeah! Almost forgot. They’re letting us make some paper snowflakes under supervision. We can hang up what we make in our cells,” Jesse said, rocking back and forth on his heels.

         The unspoken question hung in the air for a moment. “I suppose that’s something you want to do?” Walt asked finally, trying not to sound amused.

         “…Maybe. I mean, I guess. Better than standing around moping, right?” Jesse replied.

         Walt nodded. “Alright.”

         “Wait, really?”

         “Lead the way,” Walt said, gesturing for Jesse to walk. Beaming, Jesse took off towards the corner of the rec room where the guards were keeping an eye on the prisoners making crafts.

         They spent the rest of their free time making paper snowflakes. Dinner _was_ ham, stuffing, and mashed potatoes, with a slice of apple pie for desert. And when it was time for lights out, Walt caught himself smiling at the snowflakes they’d hung on the bunk-bed.

         “Merry Christmas, Mr. White.”

         “Merry Christmas, Jesse.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

         “Dude, I don’t think I’ve seen you drink this much soda in, like, five years,” Badger said, his brows rising so high they disappeared under his mop of hair.

         Jesse gave him a “shut up” glare over the can of coke he was downing. Fuck, he was officially sick of the stuff. Four weeks of it was more than enough. “So, what’s the story with your car?”

         Badger grinned. “Almost totally fixed up.” His grin faded into a pout. “My cousin wanted all my damn money, though.”

         “And your soda binge is eating up all of mine,” Skinny Pete complained, scratching at his neck.

         “Look,” Jesse started, lowering his voice, “I wouldn’t be asking for the soda if it wasn’t important. Trust me, okay?”

         Skinny Pete nodded. “Yo, I get it. I mean, not really, but you said Heisenberg’s got it all figured out, so...” He shrugged. “Just wish we could bring our own, you know?”

         “Or like, beer or something. Soda gets so boring after a while,” Badger agreed. “Got some the other day. It tastes like ass, but it’s cheap.”

         “How would you know what ass tastes like?” Skinny Pete asked with a smirk.

         “Shut up, man.”

         Jesse snorted and set the can on the table. He spotted the guards approaching and sighed. “Okay, looks like we’re done.” Jesse stood and he traded fist bumps and hand slides with Badger and Skinny Pete. It was always a little depressing being led away from his friends. Like it would be the last time he saw them, even when he knew that it wouldn’t.

         When he was returned to his cell, Jesse waited until the guard left before walking over to Mr. White, who was pacing while reading. He always seemed to have a new book, and Jesse had to wonder just how many the library had.

         “Here,” Jesse said, hold out his hand, palm up. He uncurled his fingers to reveal the tabs from the soda can and the beer Badger had snuck in.

         Mr. White took them and hid them in his pillowcase. “I think with four more we’ll have enough. Good work,” he said with a small smile.

         It was always ridiculous how much praise affected Jesse. He knew he shouldn’t care so much, but sometimes he just couldn’t help it. “So what’s next?” he asked with a grin.

 

 

* * *

 

 

         What was next turned out to be a whole lot of nothing. At least for the moment. Jesse sighed as he doodled in his sketchbook in the corner of the rec room. Of course he knew Mr. White wasn’t giving him all the details for his safety, but sometimes he wondered if it was just because he didn’t trust him. Well, whatever he did in filing, Jesse hoped it was worth it.

         As had been happening recently, his thoughts wandered back to the night Mr. White had comforted him. It was still strange to think about, but Jesse was finding that, more and more, the memory made him happy. That combined with the recent praise just… Jesse hoped it meant that Mr. White was truly changing, and meant what he’d said and wasn’t manipulating him again. He couldn’t really see why he would. It wasn’t like Mr. White had anything to gain by escaping himself, right? His family hated him, and there was no way he’d be able to start up his meth empire again.

         So that had to mean Mr. White was being genuine. Or at least was working on it. Jesse focused back on his drawing. His cheeks heated. Apparently his stupid hand decided to just go and draw Mr. White while he was thinking. A really bad drawing. Jesse groaned softly. His hand whipped back and forth over the page, blacking out the image. He didn’t want anyone to see it. Especially Mr. White.

         The feeling of being watched had Jesse looking up. Rabbit stood in front of him, eyes downcast. That guy—Russel—was beside Rabbit, an arm slung casually around his shoulders. It would almost have looked friendly, if not for the glint of a shiv in his hand.

         “I noticed Heisenberg’s missing today,” Russel said with a smirk.

         Jesse wasn’t sure how to respond. His eyes kept flicking to Rabbit, who wouldn’t meet his gaze. Then he noticed something. There were faint marks around Rabbit’s neck that looked suspiciously like finger prints.

         Russel’s smirk widened into a nasty grin. “Well, you can just pass on the message. Because you see, my buddy here, Rabbit, had some interesting things to tell me.”

         Dread pooled in the pit of Jesse’s stomach.

         “Yeah, mentioned something about you and Heisenberg working on an escape plan,” Russel said.

         “I didn’t mean to—” Rabbit’s protest was cut off by Russel pressing the tip of his shiv against his neck.

         Russel stared Jesse down. “Look, I’ll keep quiet, won’t even kill bunny boy here, but I want in on the plan. If you don’t, though, maybe Rabbit will end up in an even worse situation than he’s already in.” He let go of Rabbit. “And as a show of… let’s say good faith, you can even have the bleach he was trying to sneak to you.”

         Rabbit sat beside Jesse and slipped him four of those orange pill containers filled with bleach. Jesse snuck them into his pockets. He glared up at Russel. “Fine. I’ll talk to Heisenberg.”

         “Good,” Russel sneered. “Glad we understand each other.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

         Walt was silent until he and Jesse reached their cell after dinner. He turned to face Jesse. “How did _Russel_ find out?” he demanded.

         Jesse shook his head. “I don’t really know, man!” He reached into his pocket and pulled out some pill bottles. “He must’ve seen these or something. Then beat him for answers? Rabbit had bruises on his neck, like he’d been choked.”

         Frowning, Walt took the bottles. He turned one over to look at the label. “Are these Rabbit’s?”

         “How should I know?” Jesse asked. “Maybe they’re Russel’s? Why does it matter?”

         “The name on here is Frank Manuel,” Walt said, deciding against answering Jesse’s last question. Rabbit didn’t look like he fit the surname of Manuel, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t his.

         Jesse’s eyes widened. “No. That was that guy you killed! The one from the showers.”

         That was interesting. Walt clenched the bottle in his hand. “The pills that belonged in here were clonazepam… It wouldn’t be a far stretch of the imagination to guess that Manuel was addicted to this.”

         “Okay, and?” Jesse prompted, arms crossed.

         Walt set the bottles down and retrieved the screws and nails he’d gathered. He dropped two into each of the bottles of bleach, capped them again, and hid the bottles. “Manuel is dead, so how would Rabbit get these? And how would Russel know?” he asked, though the questions were rhetorical. “If you’ll recall the guard that I worked with, Mark, asked me to keep an eye out for someone sneaking drugs into the prison. They weren’t being snuck in. Russel and Manuel were dealing the clonazepam to the inmates. Rabbit found the empty bottles that Russel was stupid to keep, and figured they could be useful.”

         Jesse blinked. “Damn. But, how does that help us? I mean, sure you could tell Mark, but then what? Russel will find out eventually and then he’ll kill Rabbit. Or worse.”

         It would be a risk, but Walt already had a new plan forming. Well, more like an adjustment to the old one. “Actually, I think this could be useful.”

         Jesse raised a skeptical eyebrow at him.

         Walt smiled. “We’ll agree to let him in on the plan,” he said. “Obviously, we’ll need to leave out the fact that he’ll be part of the distraction.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

         “I’m really sorry,” Rabbit said for the third time. “I didn’t wanna say anything but...”

         “I know.” Jesse stopped his folding to face him. And he did. He understood that Rabbit hadn’t had a choice. “I told you I’m not mad. I mean it, yo. You had to stop him from hurting you.”

         Rabbit sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I just feel like I screwed everything up for you guys.”

         “You didn’t,” Jesse insisted. “Actually, it’s helping.”

         “Wait, for real?” Rabbit asked, eyes wide.

         Jesse nodded. “Yeah. Heisenberg came up with a better plan.” He folded a blanket and tossed it into the bin. “He’s really good at thinking shit up on the fly, you know?”

         Relaxing a little, Rabbit smiled. “Awesome. Is there anything I can, uh, do? I promise I won’t fuck up this time.”

         “Maybe. He wanted to know if you’re good with mechanics,” Jesse said.

         “Hm.” Rabbit thought about his answer as he folded. “I mean, I guess it depends on how you mean that. Like, I can’t build anything. I can hot-wire a car? And I disabled security cameras from the places I robbed. Is that what he means?”

         Jesse glanced over his shoulder. “What about driers? Do you think you’d be able to get one of them to explode?”

         Rabbit’s jaw dropped. “Explode?”

         “Yeah.”

         Crossing his arms, Rabbit leaned against the table. “That’s really dangerous. But… I guess I could try? The others that work in here might make it difficult,” he replied. “Does he want just a random explosion? Or timed? Because if it’s timed then I really don’t think so.”

         Jesse hummed. “More just what day he wants it to happen. He wants it to happen while we’re working. Do you think you’d be able to time it enough so that we can get out of the way?”

         Rabbit looked over at the criers. He gave a single, slow nod. “I think I could. Might want to pile up some of the laundry just in case, but sure.” Rabbit’s lips twisted into a sad frown. “Russel might want to know about this. Heisenberg won’t be mad if I have to tell him, right?”

         “No, he knows it might happen,” Jesse said. “Besides, maybe he’ll have some idea on how to blow it up.”

         “Oh, yeah, good point,” Rabbit agreed, grinning. “So, when do we need to do this?”

         “Next week,” Jesse replied. “Everything will be ready to go. Blowing up the driers will be the main distraction, so it’s one of the most important parts of the plan.”

         Rabbit grimaced. “No pressure, then.”

         “You can do it,” Jesse said, bumping his shoulder with his own. “I know you can.”

         Smiling, Rabbit nodded. “I’ll try.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read, commented, and/or left kudos! You all are awesome, really. :)  
> Enjoy!

         Today was the day. Everything was ready, the plan was as good as it was going to get, and things were falling into place. Waiting any longer only put them at risk of something, somehow, finding a way to go wrong and send them all to hell in a handbasket. To put it mildly. No, Walt couldn’t allow for any more surprises like Russel. Or even for Russel to decide he wanted to screw them all over anyway.

         Walt held out the empty pill bottle to Mark as he was escorted to the library. “I’ve found out who’s been bringing in the drugs.”

         Mark took the bottle and looked at the label. “Hm. Seems like you found out too late. Manuel is dead,” he said, frowning.

         “Except this was found in the cell of a man called Russel,” Walt explained. “It’s possible they were working together.”

         “It’s possible,” Mark agreed. He opened the door to the library. “But how did you get this?”

         “I have ways,” Walt replied, walking inside. “But considering Russel has his own gang in here, it’s likely that most of his people are in on this.”

         Sighing, Mark nodded. “This _is_ more of a lead than we’ve had. I’ll look into it.” He gave Walt a look. “I hope this does actually lead to something. For your sake.”

         Walt watched him go with a frown, then wandered over to the bookshelves. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he noted that Jesse would be heading off to work in the laundry. Good. There should be enough time for Mark, and maybe a couple of other guards, to start interrogating Russel. That took care of that particular problem. It would work even more in their favor if Russel put up a fight—which was likely, considering he knew the break out was happening today.

         He picked a book and sat down at one of the small round tables. Walt hated waiting around, but there was nothing else he could do. Everything was timed down to the minute, it was just a matter of being patient. And hoping Rabbit didn’t fuck everything up.

         It all needed to go perfectly. Walt wanted at least _this_ to go right, so when he had to leave Jesse to come back, maybe Jesse would have one or two good memories of him. The chances of Walt being thrown into solitary for most—if not all—of the rest of his life sentence were high. It would be nice to know he managed to do something right for Jesse for once.

         Walt flipped through the book, looked at the clock again, and frowned. Soon. Then they would be out.

 

 

* * *

 

 

         A million worries bounced around in Jesse’s head as he started folding the laundry. The small bag of thermite in his pocket didn’t help at all. What if that went off when the driers exploded? Jesse would end up just a pile of bloody body parts scattered all over the laundry room. Like Krazy 8. He shuddered.

         Or what if the explosion didn’t go off at all? Then Mr. White would have to come up with a whole new plan. And what would Russel do? He was pretty muscular, so there was no doubt that, if he really wanted to, he could kill all of them easily. The last thing Jesse wanted was to die in prison. And if he didn’t kill them, he could definitely make their lives more of a living hell than they were already.

         Rabbit passed him, going to load the washers and move wet laundry into one of the dryers; the one farthest from the door, thank god. It would give them a bit more cover from the blast, having to go through three other dryers before getting to where they would be.

         Of course, that was just the escape. Jesse had no idea what he would do once he was actually free. He’d never see Badger or Skinny Pete again. Or Jake, his parents… Mr. White. Once Mr. White turned himself in, Jesse would be completely alone. His throat tightened and he rubbed at his eyes.

         “Alright, all set,” Rabbit said, interrupting Jesse’s thoughts.

         Jesse nodded. “Good. How will it work exactly?”

         “Once that dryer is filled and turned on, it’ll go,” Rabbit replied. “Just messed with a few wires, mostly. Also, I’m pretty sure the guy that’s been cleaning that one hasn’t been getting rid of the lint build up. It’s got a lot of fuel to work with.”

         They both worked on folding, leaving the bins off to the side where the machines were, keeping a path clear for later. Jesse only felt a little bad, knowing it might mean some people wouldn’t make it out. Of course, then it was a matter of getting past any guards that would be alerted. Jesse couldn’t help but see how many ways it could all go wrong.

         Rabbit went still. Jesse glanced around him and saw why. One of the other guys was approaching the last dryer. They shared a look, and a nod. It was time.

         There were a few moments of silence as the dryer was loaded with more laundry.

_Slam._

         The dryer door was shut.

_Click. Click. Click._

         Then…

_BOOM!_

         A scream ripped through the air as the dryer exploded in a burst of blue and yellow flames.

_BOOM!_

         The next one erupted. More screams and shouts followed. The doors to the laundry flew open and guards rushed in. Jesse grabbed Rabbit by the wrist and hauled him towards the doors, and in the confusion they slipped from the room. More explosions echoed behind them as they ran. Guards sprinted past them, too concerned about what was happening to pay any attention to either of them.

         They skidded to a halt in front of a locked gate, blocking them from the wing where Mr. White was waiting for them. Jesse pulled the small bag of thermite from his pocket and rested it on the lock. Rabbit handed him the lighter he’d stolen.

         "Thanks" Jesse muttered, and set it off. "Step back a little."

         As soon as the lock was melted—Rabbit giving a little “ooh” of amazement—Jesse pushed open the gate and they were through. Coming down one of the halls were the heavy footsteps of guards. Jesse shoved Rabbit down one of the other hallways and then backed up against the wall. He peered around the corner and watched as they ran by.

         Which was fine, until the sound of more guards could be heard rushing down the hall they were now in. Jesse and Rabbit ran back into the main hall and around another corner.

         “I think the cafeteria’s this way. That’s where we’re going right?” Rabbit asked.

         “Yeah. Heisenberg’s going to meet us there,” Jesse replied.

         Here and there they continued to stop, or hide around a corner as guards rushed by. Even if the guards were more interested in the explosions, it didn’t mean Jesse and Rabbit wouldn’t be stopped if one happened to notice them. They took a sharp turn down one of the many hallways and headed straight for the cafeteria. Jesse breathed a sigh of relief seeing Mr. White running their way from the opposite direction.

         “Good job, that should have them distracted for a bit,” Mr. White said, leading them through the cafeteria.

         “Don’t jinx it man,” Jesse muttered. They weren’t in the clear yet, and they needed all the luck they could get until they were.

         “Now what?” Rabbit asked as they darted into the kitchen.

         Mr. White stopped at the door to the back. With a quick check, it proved to be locked. Instead of answering, he pulled the other small bag of thermite he’d kept for himself out of his pocket and braced it against the door. He held out his hand and Jesse gave him the lighter.

         And just like that, another door was down. Mr. White led them inside, only to find there were four uniformed men stocking the food for the prison. He didn’t waist any time, punching the first one in the face, hard enough to knock him to the ground.

         Jesse tripped one of the others and pinned him to the floor as Rabbit tackled the third. He grabbed a soup can and smacked it over the man’s head. Just to be sure, Jesse did it again, then pushed himself to his feet. He turned in time to see Rabbit punch the fourth man, who Mr. White had had in a choke hold.

         “What the hell? Who are these guys?” Jesse panted, panicking.

         Mr. White wiped at his brow, breathing a little more heavily than normal. “The men who deliver food to the prison every second Wednesday. And right on time.”

         “You planned this?” Rabbit asked. Jesse wasn’t sure if he was just as surprised or not. Actually, he sounded as impressed as Jesse felt. Not that he shouldn’t have guessed Mr. White would have planned even something like this.

         “Yes. We need a way out, and what better way than their truck?” Mr. White replied, finding a set of keys in one of the men’s pocket. “We’ll also be taking their clothes. These”—he gestured at their prison uniforms with a raised eyebrow—“are just a little too conspicuous.”

         It made sense. Jesse nodded and they got to work, stripping the men and shoving them off to the side so they wouldn’t be discovered imediately.

         Just as they were almost finished changing, loud footsteps echoed through the cafeteria.

         “I thought the guards were supposed to be distracted!” Jesse exclaimed.

         “They were! There must’ve been someone at the cameras who noticed us,” Mr. White said, frowning.

         Rabbit made a sound of alarm. “What do we do?”

         “Hurry!” Mr. White snapped. Rabbit swore, tugging on the lengthy black pants and stumbled after Jesse as he and Mr. White dashed for the back door, just as the guards burst into the kitchen, guns at the ready.

         Outside was a large truck, the logo for the company stamped on the side. Jesse really hoped the truck would be enough to get outside the walls. If the guards stopped them to check, he didn’t know if they’d make it.

         Mr. White opened the driver’s side door and climbed up inside. Jesse heard the slam of the door behind them and practically dove around the side of the truck. Gunshots rang out and Jesse hauled open the passenger door. He scrambled up into the truck and turned, looking for Rabbit.

         “Wait! Rabbit?” Jesse called, eyes wide. “Rabbit!”

         Mr. White leaned over and yanked the door shut.

         “Hey! What the fuck do you think you—”

         No.

         In the side mirror, Jesse could see Rabbit laying face down on the ground, blood pooling out from around his head.

         “NO! _NO!”_ Jesse screamed, lunging for the door. The truck jerked forward, slamming Jesse back into his seat. “No! Go back!”

         Mr. White sped past the fences and towards the back gates. Without waiting for the guards to react, he smashed through them and kept on going.

         “Stop! You have to stop!” Jesse sobbed.

         “It’s too late,” Mr. White said. “I’m sorry.”

         Jesse let out a frustrated cry and smacked the dashboard. This was all his fault! Rabbit was dead, because he’d gotten him involved. “Fuck!” He curled in on himself in his seat, gripping at his hair. Why did he have to keep getting people killed?


	10. Chapter 10

         Walt kept glancing at Jesse out of the corner of his eyes as he drove out into the desert. He wasn’t sure what to say, if he should say anything. Rabbit’s death was unfortunate, even more so in how much it upset Jesse. Ultimately, though, any conversation about it would have to wait. Walt spotted a blue plastic bag trapped in a scraggly tree and made a turn behind the outcropping of rocks. An unassuming black car was parked by some brambles.

         He parked the truck beside it and climbed out. Walt checked around each tire until he found the keys tucked up under the left rear one, then went and grabbed the plastic bag that Jesse’s friends had left. He returned to the truck and opened up the passenger door. “It’s time to go.”

         At first, Jesse didn’t respond, but then he slowly got out. He followed Walt over to the car and got in. When Walt joined him, he still didn’t say anything.

         Walt leaned over and opened the glove compartment. Inside was a map, twenty dollars, and a flashlight, as requested. Beneath the map was what looked like a note. He saw that it had what he interpreted as Jesse’s name written on the top. One of his friends had awful handwriting. Walt held it out to him. “Here, I think this is for you.”

         Jesse blinked, then took the note. The paper crinkled as his grip tightened. His eyes squeezed shut and he took a shuddering breath. “...There’s something in the trunk,” Jesse said, voice quivering. “They told me.”

         “I’ll take a look,” Walt said. He popped open the trunk and got out. There was a duffle bag in the trunk, and when he unzipped it he found clothes inside. The type of clothes Jesse used to wear, in shades of yellow and white. Walt zipped it back up and opened the back door. “There’s clothes in here for you. Do you want to change now or later?”

         “Now.”

         “Alright.” Walt handed the bag to him. As Jesse changed, Walt walked over to the truck and opened up the back. He was relieved to see there was still some food left inside. Most of it would be useless, but they could take a couple of things. The twenty dollars was for gas, tolls, and would have maybe lasted for one meal. Walt climbed up into the back and collected a few non-perishables, dropped the keys off on a box, then made his way back to the car.

         Thinking about the money again, Walt couldn’t help but be concerned about what would happen when it ran out. It might be enough to get Jesse to a new state, but certainly not enough for anything else. Walt sighed as he settled in the driver’s seat and started up the car. An idea came to him. He looked over at Jesse, who was staring out of the window. Walt figured Jesse didn’t particularly care what they did right now.

         Walt drove back the way they had come through the desert, eventually finding his way back onto the road.

 

 

* * *

 

 

         It was almost ten o’clock at night when Walt pulled up just outside of the compound where Jack had made his hangout. The place was dark and deserted.

         “What are you doing?” Jesse demanded, sitting up straight in his seat with wide eyes. “Why are we here? Why did you bring me here? I’m not going back!”

         Walt felt alarm at the panicked breaths coming from Jesse. “Relax, you aren’t going back,” he promised, reaching over to rub Jesse’s back. “Breathe, you’re going to pass out if you keep that up.” Once Jesse started to breathe normally, Walt explained himself. “I just wanted to see if the money really was gone. If there’s _anything_ left, then we need to know. Like I said before, without it, trying to start a new life will be next to impossible.”

         Jesse shook his head, but said nothing.

         “I’ll look. You don’t have to get any closer than this, son. Alright?” Walt said, squeezing his shoulder.

         “Fine.” Jesse ducked his head, pulling his hoodie up to his chin before wrapping his arms around himself.

         Walt took the flashlight and got out of the car. The sooner he got this over with, the better, for Jesse’s sake. He walked through the large hole in the fence and stopped. Walt was sure there wouldn’t be anything left of the lab, so what remained was the main building, one shack, and several covered areas. The main building was most likely where they’d hide the cash—while Jack and his crew weren’t complete idiots, they weren’t exactly geniuses either.

         As he made his way across the lot, Walt noticed something he hadn’t before; a rusted grate set in the ground. He walked over and peered down into the hole. It was empty, but there were various stains inside. Some were clearly from blood.

_God, is this where they kept Jesse?_ Walt stepped back, then forced himself to walk away, feeling a little sick with himself. Pushing open the front door, Walt entered the main building of the compound.

         He searched the place high and low, under every piece of furniture, behind every poster, painting, and piece of wall art. It was as he was about to give up, that Walt noticed something. He stepped on a section of floorboard where the pool table used to be, listening to it creak again. Walt knew there was a high possibility it was just old flooring, but there was also a chance it was more than that. He got down on his knees and worked his fingers into the crack in the boards. With a few good tugs, he pried the floorboard up, revealing a crawlspace beneath. And sitting inside was a large briefcase.

         Walt hefted the briefcase out and frowned down at the lock. It needed a pass code. He huffed in annoyance and looked around. The place had been stripped clean, which meant if there _had_ been any clue of what the numbers were, it was gone. So that left trying to guess it from what he knew of Jack, which was admittedly very little. Except… Walt quickly flicked through the numbers until he had them read 8800. It didn’t work. So he tried 0088. The briefcase opened with a _click_.

         It was filled with money. Walt grinned. It was nowhere near the amount they had taken, but it looked like it would still be good enough. There was no time to count it right now, however, so he shut the briefcase and hurried from the compound.

         Walt put the briefcase in the trunk, then got into the car. “We’re done here. You’ll never have to see the place again,” he told Jesse.

         Jesse nodded, but otherwise didn’t respond. Trying not to take it personally, Walt just sighed silently to himself and drove.

         It was strange, leaving everything behind again, except this time it was for good. Even stranger was that it felt almost easier this time. Perhaps because he was helping Jesse. Or trying to. There was no true destination in mind, only the need to get out of the state. Walt was sure Jesse could make it just about anywhere, it was just a matter of getting as far away from New Mexico as possible.

         Watching the streaks of the yellow road lines as they appeared in the dim headlights, Walt’s mind wandered. Would the police go to Skyler, thinking Walt had escaped to return to her? He hoped not, she deserved to be able to move on from the whole mess, and Walt figured he’d made it clear to the police what he thought of her in that staged phone call. But there _was_ a chance she would hear about what happened. Her opinion about his actions mattered very little, however.

         Walt drove for as long as he could, before pulling off to the side and parking in the dusty flat plains, with parched grass and bushes scattered about, just over the border of Colorado. There were signs indicating they were headed towards a town called Branson. He looked to his side.

         The warm, pink glow of sunrise cascaded over Jesse’s sleeping form, lighting up his dirty-blond hair and the length of his lashes which fanned over his cheeks. His brows were furrowed slightly, but otherwise he seemed to be having a restful sleep. Walt recalled how peaceful Jesse had seemed when he’d been asleep in Walt’s arms, and was gratified that he’d been able to bring some amount of comfort to him.

         Walt quietly got out of the car, grabbed the briefcase from the trunk, then got back in. He opened it again and began sorting through the money, counting the bills in one stack, setting it on his lap, and then counting the total number of stacks.

         Five million. Walt shook his head. The one briefcase held five million dollars. Obviously it was no where near the eighty million, but hell, it was something. It was more than enough to let Jesse start fresh; a new identity, a home, maybe even online classes if he wanted to really change things up. Walt huffed in amusement. Probably not that last one. Even so, he felt better leaving Jesse with this than nothing.

         Relieved, Walt put the money back, closed the briefcase, and set it in the back seat. He yawned, reclined his own seat and pushed his glasses up onto his head. He would try to get a bit of sleep himself.

 

 

* * *

 

 

         Jesse was woken by his stomach growling. He heard a chuckle to his left and opened his eyes. Mr. White, slowed his driving and reached into the back seat. After a moment of searching blindly, he found what he was looking for and held it out to Jesse. A granola bar. Wrinkling his nose, Jesse took it anyway. “Thanks.”

         “It’s something healthy, which you need,” Mr. White said simply.

         Rolling his eyes, Jesse sat up properly and looked out at their surroundings. There wasn’t much of anything to see beyond endless blue skies, the flat stretch of dry yellow grass, and the little wire fence that separated it from the road. In the very distance Jesse could see the faint hint of mountains. “Where are we?” he asked, taking a bit of his granola bar.

         Mr. White rolled his shoulders and glanced at the radio clock, which read 1:34 p.m. “We passed a sign for Denver, Colorado twenty minutes ago.”

         Jesse nearly choked on a nut. _“Jesus!_ Really? We’ve gone that far?”

         “Yeah,” Mr. White replied. He looked away from the nearly empty road. “Jesse, I’m sorry about what happened to Rabbit. The guards were meant to be completely distracted… Anyway, I hope you know that wasn’t my intention.”

         Picking at the wrapper, Jesse gave a little nod. “I know.” He sighed and met Mr. White’s eyes. “Thanks.”

         Mr. White gave a single nod back, and returned his focus to the road.

         “So, uh, where are we going?” Jesse asked, shifting in his seat to get a better look at Mr. White. His dark green eyes were calm, the wrinkles around them smoothed ever so slightly. Jesse wasn’t sure how long it had been since he’d seen him so, well, relaxed.

         “That’s up to you,” Mr. White replied with a small smile. “You can go wherever you want.”

         Jesse swallowed a lump in his throat. “Shit,” he muttered, overwhelmed. He looked out the window again, watched as some eighteen-wheeler passed them by. “I don’t even know, man.”

         Mr. White nodded. “That’s alright, Jesse. You have time to think about it. For now, we’re just driving. Getting away from New Mexico.”

         That made sense. Jesse rubbed his hands over his face. Now that he was awake and not feeling completely numb, his body was making its needs well known. “You think there’s a gas station or something coming up? I have to piss.”

         “Hm. I don’t know. I suppose if we don’t come across something soon, you’ll have to make due with the side of the road,” Mr. White said. “At least we’re starting to see some hills. You wouldn’t be completely exposed.”

         Jesse grimaced. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d gone outside, but he really didn’t want to.

         “Try to keep your mind off it,” Mr. White suggested. His eyes brightened suddenly and he smiled properly. “You should be happy to know, that briefcase has five million dollars in it.”

         That got Jesse’s attention. “Holy shit, five million?” A weight he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying was lifted from his shoulders. He pumped his fist in the air. “Hell yeah!” Normally he wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with that money, but realistically Jesse knew he needed it. And that much cash? It would make things so much easier.

         Mr. White nodded. “Just be sure to spend it responsibly, hm? A home, actual food, perhaps online classes for something. Squandering it on giant televisions or video games would be foolish.”

         “Ugh, yeah, I _know_ , Mr. White. I’m not stupid,” Jesse groaned, head flopping back against the head rest.

         A quiet sigh. “I know you’re not,” Mr. White said, his tone a little odd. “I’m just…worried about you.”

         Jesse peeked at him out of the corner of his eye, then looked down at his lap, hands fidgeting. Right. Mr. White was worried, because soon he’d be leaving. Going back to prison. And Jesse would be making his own decisions. Alone. He leaned his head against the cool glass of the window and watched the small trees pass by.

         “There’s a steakhouse over here. We can get something to eat and you can go to the bathroom,” Mr. White announced, turning off down an exit.

         “Sounds good,” Jesse agreed softly.

 

 

* * *

 

 

         Jesse had never been on a road trip before. Of course, this wasn’t one for fun, but still, he was allowing himself to appreciate the little things. Like how Mr. White gave quiet chuckles, or small smiles whenever Jesse had excitedly pointed out the sheep or horses or cows they’d passed on their way through Nebraska and into Omaha. Of course the asshole had teased him about calling a barn a “cow house” way back when they’d first started cooking, but Jesse hadn’t found it in himself to be too mad.

         Now they were sitting in a Mexican fast-food place at eight at night. Mr. White was looking over their map, like the old fart he was, while Jesse chowed down on some nachos. “So, like, are we sleeping in the car again?” he asked.

         “Not if I can help it,” Mr. White said with a huff, shaking his head. “I think I saw a Best Western on our way over here. We could stay there. Come up with an actual plan for you.” He folded the map back up, the reached over to steal one of Jesse’s nachos.

         “Hey! Get your own, bitch,” Jesse complained, swatting at his hand. Mr. White only smirked and ate the one he’d stolen. He grabbed the basket of nachos and pulled them closer to himself in retaliation, completing his statement by sticking out his tongue.

         Mr. White snorted. “How mature.”

         Jesse considered coming up with some kind of smart-ass comeback, but something caught his eye. Frowning, he watched as a guy made his way to the soda machine. Jesse couldn’t pinpoint why, but there was something about him that seemed…familiar.

         “Jesse?” Mr. White twisted in his seat to see who he was looking at.

         The man turned and Jesse knew exactly who it was, despite the thinning hair and mustache. And when the man looked up, his eyes lit up in horrified recognition.

_“You two?”_


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, a big thank you to everyone who's been leaving kudos and comments and just reading in general.

         Saul Goodman stared at Walt and Jesse, mouth open a little. He took a quick look around before making a beeline around the low wall and over to their table. Saul grabbed a chair from an empty table and dragged it over, the legs screeching against the tile. “What the hell are you two doing here?” he demanded.

         Walt was just as shocked. “I could ask the same.” Though, he did sort of remember Saul mentioning something about Nebraska. He’d mostly forgotten considering how hectic that day had been.

         “Yeah, and what’s with the porno ‘stache?” Jesse added unhelpfully. Walt gave him a small glare, to which Jesse responded with a silent “what?”.

         “How did you find me? Did anyone follow you?” Saul demanded, though he sounded more scared than angry as his gaze darted around the restaurant.

         “It was a complete accident, I promise,” Walt replied. “And no-one is following us. But maybe this conversation would be better elsewhere?”

         Saul shook his head. “Go with _you two?_ I don’t think so, I’d like to keep _some_ witnesses around, thanks.”

         Walt frowned. “We’re not going to kill you.”

         “Well, there’s a load off my mind,” Saul retorted. “Now seriously, what are you doing here? I thought you were in New Hampshire?”

         Jesse’s eyes widened. “Wait, you didn’t hear?”

         “Hear what?”

         Walt stood. “If we’re having this conversation, it isn’t going to happen in public,” he insisted. There was no way he was going to risk being found out because Saul was a coward.

         Saul had another look around, then sighed and stood. He went over to a different table, grabbed a burrito, and returned. At Walt’s confused expression, Saul shrugged. “A man’s gotta have a last meal.”

         “Come on,” Walt huffed, rolling his eyes. As he and Jesse led Saul out of the restaurant, he could hear the man muttering behind them between bites of his burrito.

         “Here I was, staying out of trouble, and then you clowns show up. And trouble’s a third wheel with you two,” Saul complained as they stopped in the parking lot by the black car.

         Jesse crossed his arms. “Yo, you really didn’t hear we got sent to prison?”

         Saul blinked. “Wow. Prison, huh?” He shook his head. “I’m guessing you didn’t get out for good behavior, huh?”

         “No,” Walt replied dryly.

         “Well, no wonder you look like shit, kid. No offense,” Saul said, eyeing Jesse with a faintly amused expression. Then he frowned. “Actually, scratch that. Considering how our last meeting went, feel free to take all the offense you want.”

         Jesse winced and looked away. “I’m, uh, sorry about that, actually. I shouldn’t have attacked you.”

         Walt’s brows rose. That was going to put a damper on his plans. Not that he hadn’t roughed Saul up himself…

         Saul sighed and ran a hand over his hair. “Jeez, it’s like getting angry at a kicked puppy. Forget it, I know you were dealing with some tough stuff. And who hasn’t gotten a little heated and attacked someone by mistake, huh?” And that sounded suspiciously like he’d had some personal experience there. Saul looked at Walt with narrowed eyes. “Which reminds me: how the hell are you two working together again? I’m pretty sure you were out to kill each other.”

         “It’s a long story,” Walt said, glancing at Jesse out of the corner of his eye. He was staring at the ground, expression hidden in the dark.

         “Uh-huh. So you broke out of prison, drove all the way here, and now what? What’s the _genius_ plan the _great Heisenberg_ has come up with?” Saul asked, one brow raised.

         Walt ignored the sarcasm in his voice. “The plan was to get Jesse out of New Mexico, get him a new identity, and live a new life. And I’ll be turning myself back in.”

         Saul made a noise of surprise. There was a few moments of silence as he seemed to come to a decision about what to say next. “You know what? Whatever damage is going to be done, it’s probably too late to change it. Fate just seems to hate me that much,” he said. “You two might as well stay with me. I’m sure I can find someone that knows how to make the right papers.”

         Jesse’s head snapped up. “Wait, seriously?”

         “The less you two are seen around here, the better. So yes, being the generous and charitable man I am, you can stay with me,” Saul replied, pressing a hand over his heart dramatically. “But from now on, if we’re in public, you know me as Gene. You follow my rules and I don’t want any back talk. Especially from you.” He jabbed a finger in Walt’s direction. “Got it?”

         “Got it,” Walt replied. It was for Jesse’s sake.

         “Good,” Saul said, turning. “Then we’ll all take your car, since I took a taxi here.”

         After a long and awkwardly silent drive—Jesse pouting about sitting in the back hadn’t helped—they arrived at Saul’s place: a brick ranch home with no hint of landscaping aside from a stump and a tree that had likely died long before winter. Saul led them up the short, concrete path and into his home. “Mi casa es su casa,” he said, gesturing grandly at the bland interior, “for now.”

         Walt merely gave a quiet grunt instead of a verbal thanks as he set the briefcase down on a chair. The interior of the house had about as much personality as the exterior; which was to say it had none. Basic furniture, beige walls, and no decorations to speak of. Walt had expected that someone who dressed like Saul did would have a home just as garish.

         “So, bathroom is down that little hall to the left. Also, there’s only one bedroom so you’ll have to fight it out for the couch,” Saul explained, wandering into his kitchen. He grabbed a beer from the off-white fridge, popped the cap off, and took a swig. Seemingly remembering he was a host, Saul opened the fridge again. “Beer?”

         “No thank you,” Walt replied.

         Jesse shifted from foot to foot awkwardly. “You, uh, wouldn’t mind if I used your shower, right?”

         Saul gestured towards the hall as he walked back into the living room. “I’d be more offended if you didn’t. You two don’t exactly smell like fresh roses.”

         “Thanks,” Jesse mumbled and hurried off.

         “So,” Saul drawled after the soft click of the bathroom door echoed through the house, “how about you start that long story?”

         “I think I’ll need that beer after all,” Walt sighed. He grabbed one from the fridge and joined Saul in the living room. Then, he told Saul everything that he had missed.

         When he’d finished, Saul gave a low whistle. “Wow. Someone should make a TV show out of that, you know? Bet it’d be a hit.”

         Walt glowered at him.

         “Just saying,” Saul said, holding his hands up defensively. _“Sheesh._ Okay… So you know if I do manage to find a guy, it won’t be cheap, right? And I can’t promise I can find someone of the same level of expertise as the last one.”

         “It’s fine. That’s for us to worry about,” Walt replied.

         Saul nodded. “Right. And you’re really planing on turning yourself back in? Giving up, just like that? You’re already out.”

         Taking a sip of beer, Walt delayed answering. He hunched forward on the couch and shook his head. “After everything I’ve done… I shouldn’t even be alive, so turning myself in seems like the right thing to do.” Walt knew he wasn’t always one to do the “right thing” but in this case… ”And all of this is for Jesse. There’s no way to make up for what I’ve done to him, but I wanted to at least try. Going back to prison after seems like one last way to do that. He’s a good kid. He deserves to be happy.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

         Jesse sighed as the warm water rushed over his skin, and he washed the shampoo from his hair. It felt so good to be able to take a shower and not worry about getting attacked. When he finally felt clean, he stepped out of the tub, grabbed a towel, and dried himself. Jesse picked his boxers up from where he’d dropped them on the toilet seat and pulled them on. When he happened to look up, he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

         Leaning over the sink, he pressed his fingers to his face. The scars were healed—though one or two were still noticeable—and some of the smaller ones had faded to near invisibility. However, compared to when he’d really last seen himself, Jesse thought he looked…better. More alive, with a hint of color to his cheeks that hadn’t been there in a while. Jesse stepped back and looked down at himself, at the other pink and white scars that crisscrossed his body. Shaking his head, he finished getting dressed.

         Jesse padded down the hall towards the living room, when the quiet rumble of Mr. White’s voice reached him.

         “...a good kid. He deserves to be happy,” Mr. White said. Jesse stopped, eyes wide. Mr. White had told him something similar, but it was different hearing him say it to someone else. And he sounded like he really meant it.

         Walking a little more loudly, Jesse made his way into the living room. “Thanks for letting me use the shower,” he told Saul, sitting beside Mr. White.

         Saul looked at the both of them, then nodded. “Yeah, sure.” His attention stayed on Jesse. “So, do you have any idea where you want to go? What you’re going to do once you have your new life?”

         Jesse shrugged. “Uh, a little, yeah. I was kind of thinking somewhere up north would be best, you know? Farther away from anyone who’d know me. But I don’t know where exactly.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I think I want to make comics, or like, work with kids maybe. Just, I’d need a degree or something to do that, right? So, I don’t know if that’s a thing I could do, what with having a fake ID and all.”

         “Huh.” Saul stood. “Well, at least you have some idea. If I find someone to help you out, that might be something he’d need to know. Anyway, it’s late and all this”—he gestured to the both of them—“has been insane, so I’m hitting the hay. Like I said, you two can figure out what your doing out here.”

         Jesse watched him amble off down the hall, then turned to Mr. White. There were so many thoughts swirling around in his head, but he didn’t know how to voice them.

         “I think you’d do well, working with kids,” Mr. White said, interrupting the silence.

         “Yeah?” Jesse asked, his eyes widened a little.

         Mr. White nodded and smiled. “Is there a particular grade or subject you’ve been considering?”

         “Art, obviously,” Jesse said, grinning. “And I don’t care what grade, but I kind of want to work with elementary school kids. That’s when they’re most creative, yo.”

         “I should’ve guessed,” Mr. White chuckled. He stood and stretched his back. “You can take the couch. I can fall asleep just about anywhere, so the chair doesn’t bother me. One perk of being old, I guess.”

         Jesse snickered. “Taking my jokes now, Mr. White?”

         “Yep,” Mr. White replied with a smirk. As Mr. White headed for the bathroom, Jesse returned to his thoughts. Unfortunately, trying to sort them out was like trying to explain how to make Mr. White’s crystal to Badger all over again.

         Jesse fished the note from his pocket and looked it over. Badger had written it, though it was from both him and Skinny Pete; they planned on trying to go clean again, and Skinny Pete even wanted to try and get somewhere with his piano skills. Badger wasn’t sure what he wanted to do, but figured he might know at some point, and in the meantime he’d gotten a job at a movie theater. They both wished him luck, and even told him to call them once he had his new life set up.

         He folded the note back up and stuffed it in his pocket again. Jesse hoped it worked out for them, and he’d call them. It wouldn’t be the same, though, and he doubted he’d be able to see them in person for a long, long time. The important thing was that they were okay. They were _alive._ Jesse didn’t have to worry about ruining their lives or putting them in danger. His friends would make it.

         Mr. White reappeared and went to turn off the light on the end table between the couch and arm chair.

         Jesse looked up at him. “Mr. White?”

         “Hm?” Mr. White settled in the chair, but gave him his attention.

         Taking a steadying breath, Jesse flicked the light back on and said what was on his mind. “I don’t want you to turn yourself in.”

         The chair creaked slightly as Mr. White sat up straight. “What? Why not?”

         “I’ve been thinking about it,” Jesse replied, meeting his gaze. “Why can’t you just get a new ID too?”

         Mr. White sighed and clasped his hands together in his lap. “Where would I go, Jesse? What would I do? I don’t exactly have many options.”

         “You could live with me.”

         Mr. White’s eyes widened, and his brows shot up. “Jesse...”

         Jesse shook his head. “I mean it, Mr. White. You could.” He shifted to the edge of the couch. “No-one knows what we’ve been through better than us.”

         “That’s true, but, isn’t it something you’d rather forget?” Mr. White asked softly.

         “Even if I did want that, it wouldn’t happen,” Jesse said. Not without a lot of drugs and maybe hypnosis, at least. Neither of those were things Jesse wanted. “I mean, like, obviously if you want to go back, you can. Or go somewhere else. Just…thought you should know. I’d be okay with it.”

         Mr. White bowed his head for a moment, thinking. He sighed, then looked Jesse in the eye again. “Jesse, are...” He made a noise of frustration, though it seemed more directed at himself. “Are you sure? We tend to get on each others’ nerves and after what I’ve put you through, you want me to live with you?”

         “Yo, if I could put up with your annoying ass for as long as I did, I think I’m fine with us ‘getting on each others’ nerves’.” Jesse smiled. “So yeah, I’m sure.”

         “...Okay.” Mr. White smiled back. “If you’re sure, then I’ll stay with you.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, everyone! I hope you all enjoy this chapter, too. :)
> 
> NOTE: There is a mild spoiler in here for Better Call Saul. It shouldn't ruin much of anything if you haven't caught up, but I figured I'd give that warning anyway.

         “Mr. White isn’t going to turn himself in,” Jesse said after they’d all sat down for breakfast.

         Saul paused with a bite of egg halfway to his mouth. “I’d say I was surprised, but that’d make me a liar.” He took the bite and looked at Walt. “Not that I can blame you. I mean, what’s Albuquerque but a bunch of sand, scorpions, and bad memories?”

         Walt pinched the bridge of his nose, sighed. “You’re still willing to help us, right?”

         “Yeah, the sooner we get this done, the sooner you’re out of my hair,” Saul replied. “Ah, and before I forget, while I’m at work, you two should stay here as much as possible. Now, I noticed it doesn’t look like you have much in the way of clothes, but there _is_ a Walmart not far from here. That and the McDonald's are the only places you’ll be allowed to go.”

         “That’s understandable,” Walt agreed. He didn’t want to risk getting caught when they’d come so far.

         “Yo, we’re just supposed to sit around here doing nothing?” Jesse complained, fork clattering to his plate.

         Walt frowned. “Jesse, we need to be careful. Or do you _want_ us to get caught and sent back to prison because you can’t handle staying inside for a few days?”

         Jesse grimaced and looked down at his food. “I guess…”

         Saul stood and dumped his plate and coffee mug in the sink. “Great, now that we’re all set on that, I’m going. Try not to destroy the place.”

         Once Saul was gone, Walt turned to Jesse. “Well, I think we should go and get some clothes. And any other necessities from Walmart, of course. But clothes are a priority.”

         “Ugh, yeah. These are way too big. Like, they used to be Badger’s from a while ago, but I’m pretty sure he’s always been a giant,” Jesse said, shoveling his eggs into his mouth. “Let’s go!”

 

         As they walked into Walmart, Walt had to grab Jesse by the arm to stop him from running off. “Wait.”

_“What?”_ Jesse asked, shooting him a glare.

         “The plan is we’re heading north, right?” Walt asked.

         Jesse arched an eyebrow. “So?”

         Walt huffed. “So, considering the colder it gets the farther north you go, you should make sure that you also buy clothing for a colder climate. While we may not go far enough for it to be too much of an issue, it’s good to be prepared.”

         “Alright, alright, jeez. Can you let go now?” Jesse shook Walt’s hand off his arm and made a beeline for the clothing section.

         Walt shook his head and followed after him at a more reasonable pace. While Jesse bounded around the racks, he picked through them, considering each choice carefully. Of course, he would have preferred to be shopping elsewhere. Walmart was just so _cheap_. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, so Walt sucked it up.

         He picked up his usual choice in dockers—well, a similar style—and button-up shirts, along with a pair of jeans and a navy blue sweater and a dark brown jacket. Walt finished rather quickly and headed over to the shoes, and nearly ran into Jesse who had just come around the corner with a handful of his own.

         “Jesus!” Jesse just barely managed to keep from dropping everything. Once he’d righted himself, he sighed. “I think I’m, like, done shopping after this.”

         Walt nodded. “Yes, me too.”

         Once they’d gotten everything, Walt led the way to the checkout and paid for them both. Even if the money belonged to both of them, he’d carried it into the store.

         “I could’ve paid for my own shit. I _am_ an adult,” Jesse said with a pout as they crossed the parking lot to the car.

         Walt raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?” he teased.

         “Ha, ha, fuck you,” Jesse retorted, flipping him off. The slight twitch of his lips, however, proved he wasn’t too offended.

         “I see. Then I guess we won’t stop by the McDonald’s on the way back,” Walt said, putting the bags of clothes in the backseat.

         Jesse’s eyes widened. “Whoa, wait, no need to be crazy, yo. Adults like McDonald’s too!”

 

         Walt, now wearing his new sky blue button-up and brown dockers, dumped the empty McFlurry cup into the recycling bin outside. How people could enjoy that much sugar, he didn’t know, but given Jesse’s love of junk food it wasn’t that surprising. Walt headed back inside to be greeted by the sound of one of Saul’s obnoxious ads. He found Jesse lounging on the couch, dressed in a baggy white t-shirt with a gold metallic dragon on the front, and fitted jeans.

         “What are you watching?” Walt asked, moving to sit beside him.

         “Huh? Oh, found the tapes sitting by the TV and was curious,” Jesse replied with a grin. “I haven’t even seen some of these. And Badger’s in one! He never told me he did an add for Saul.”

         Walt shook his head and gave a quiet chuckle. “How many of these are there?”

         Jesse shrugged. “Like, seven? Eight? At least that’s what’s here.”

         Picking up on the one currently playing, Walt frowned. “’That’s not my tiger’? Who has he dealt with that owned a tiger?”

         “Maybe it was a “just in case” thing?” Jesse suggested with a snort.

         “That’s a strange thing to be prepared for.”

         The two continued to watch the tapes, and then something on the Discovery Channel. Walt nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt Jesse lean against his side. Just a little. In fact it would have been barely noticeable, if it weren’t either of them involved— _especially_ in a casual setting. It didn’t even look like Jesse was aware he had done it.

         Walt tried to return his attention back to the TV, but it was a bit of a struggle. Maybe it shouldn’t have been so strange, considering the conversation they’d had the night before. Walt was still a bit taken aback at the fact Jesse wanted him around. That he wanted _anything_ to do with him. He couldn’t help but wonder how long it would last.

 

 

* * *

 

 

         Somehow, Jesse found himself sitting in the living room with Saul a couple of days later. Mr. White had just gone to take a shower, and now Jesse felt awkward. Especially considering how annoyed he’d been when he found out they’d been watching his tapes. _Tch. Shouldn’t have left them out, then,_ thought Jesse for the millionth time.

         “Uh, can I ask you something?” Jesse started, interrupting the awkward silence.

         Saul gave a little wave of his hand. “Go ahead.”

         “Like, not to be ungrateful or anything—’cause I am, super grateful—but why are you… you know, helping us?” Jesse asked, tilting his head. “I don’t think it’s money, since you haven’t asked for any.”

         “Yet,” Saul said with a chuckle. He quickly sobered, however, and shifted in his chair. “Honestly, though? I don’t have a good reason. Actually, it’d have been in my best interest to have pretended I never saw you. But...” Saul sighed and rubbed at his mustache. “But I have to admit, this place is boring as hell. To have a chance to do something even a little risky is almost nice.”

         Jesse nodded slowly. “Oh. Yeah, Nebraska does seem really boring,” he agreed. Even though they were near a city, it didn’t seem like it had a lot going for it. He rubbed his hands together. “So, any luck finding someone? To get us IDs, I mean?”

         Saul rolled his eyes. “If I’d found someone, I would’ve said something. So no. I haven’t.” Before Jesse could be too disappointed, he continued, “But, I might have a small lead. Don’t go getting your hopes up, I don’t know for sure. Just, heard a couple things here and there that might be useful.”

         “Oh. Okay.”

         “Hey, as long as we’re asking questions...” Saul glanced down the hallway, then returned his attention to Jesse. “Why are you letting Walt stick around?”

         Jesse frowned. “Because…”

         Saul huffed in mild amusement. “That answers everything. Seriously, though, why? He’s been nothing but bad news for you.”

         The arm of the couch suddenly seemed entirely too interesting. Jesse poked at the fabric and shrugged. “He’s been nicer to me. And besides, I don’t want to be alone.” A sigh caused Jesse to look over at Saul again.

         “Jeez… Look, Jesse, I get it. Maybe not entirely, but I get it. Wanting the respect and approval of someone so bad that you just”—Saul gestured vaguely—“ignore when they’re awful to you. Hope that it’ll get better. That they’ll change and say they’re proud of you.”

         Jesse couldn’t help but stare at Saul. He’d never heard the guy talk about himself in a serious way. Not only that, but he’d gotten Jesse’s experiences right. At least, how they used to be. Yes, he still liked getting praise from Mr. White, but he didn’t rely on it any more. “Who was it for you?”

         Saul’s expression darkened. “My brother.” He shook his head and leaned forward. “You can hope all you want. People don’t change.”

         A chill ran up Jesse’s spine. As much as Jesse wanted to ask more about Saul’s brother, and why he felt like that, he could tell he wouldn’t get answers. Besides, he was wrong. People changed all the time. Jesse met Saul’s gaze. “I did.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

         “Go fish,” Jesse said with a sigh.

         Walt picked up a card from the pile on the table in the kitchen. “You’re the one who didn’t want to learn poker.”

         Jesse shrugged. “It’s hard to concentrate. I just keep waiting for Saul to tell us he found someone to get us IDs.” He frowned at his cards. “Got any threes?”

         “Patience is a virtue,” Walt replied, handing over a three.

         “At least I think I figured out sort of where I want to live,” Jesse muttered. “Got any aces?”

         “Oh? And where would that be?” Walt asked. “Go fish. Ones?”

         Jesse slid two ones over to Walt, who placed all four down onto the table. “I was thinking somewhere around San Francisco. Maybe not, like, right in the middle of the city. Or it could be. I don’t know if it gets snow or not—it’d be cool if it did. But San Francisco's supposed to have some good options for people who do artsy shit, right?”

         Walt hummed as he thought. “I believe so. Though I should warn you, the snow isn’t as amazing as you might think.”

         “Oh yeah, you were in… New Hampshire right? That’s somewhere in the North East, yeah?” Jesse asked, brows furrowed.

         “Yes, it’s just a little below Maine,” Walt replied. “Then again, you might find winter sports enjoyable. We can certainly look for something by the mountains, if that’s what you’d like to do.”

         Jesse fiddled with his cards. “That’s the best I can think of, at least for now. But it sounds like you didn’t like being up there...”

         Walt reached out and patted his arm. “As I’ve told you, Jesse, this is your life. You’ve allowed me to be a part of it still, despite the multiple reasons you have to just let me go back and turn myself in. Where we live is up to you.”

         “Okay… It’s just weird, yo, you not having an opinion on something like this,” Jesse said with a frown. “Like, not even a small argument?”

         “Don’t worry,” Walt said with a smirk, “I’ll have plenty of opinions when it comes to actually choosing a home.”

         Jesse groaned and face planted on the table. “Actually, never mind. That’s gonna suck.”

         “I don’t recall you having a problem with the condo I picked for myself,” Walt pointed out, brows raised.

         “I guess.” Jesse lifted his head so he was resting his chin on the table instead. “But wait, did you pick out that stuff or was it included with the condo?”

         “A little of both.”

         “Huh. Okay, guess your style isn’t too shitty, then.” Jesse sat up properly and stretched, causing his shirt to ride up slightly and expose his pale stomach.

         Walt tore his gaze away, clearing his throat. “Yes, well, where were we?” he muttered, looking at his cards. Walt grinned. “Ah, that’s right. I was beating you at a child’s card game.”

         “Eat me,” Jesse retorted, glaring at his cards.

         They played for a little while longer, but eventually Walt won. As a consolation, he decided to make lunch for both of them.

         The front door swung open and Saul strode inside. “What’s got two thumbs and your ticket out of here?” he declared with a grin. He gestured to himself with said thumbs. “This guy!”

         “Really?” Walt asked, brows raised.

         “Yep! Well, sort of,” Saul said with a shrug as he shut the door. “I found a guy who knows a guy—”

         “Who knows a guy,” Jesse interrupted, knowing the spiel already.

         Saul rolled his eyes. “Ha, ha, what a comedian. Point is, they know someone who can get you the fake lives you need.” He plopped down into a chair across from them at the table and clapped his hands together. “I’m meeting with them tomorrow, make sure they’re on the up-and-up. If all goes well, I’ll bring you two along to meet them.”

         Walt nodded slowly. “Okay, but do you know anything about them right now? How can you trust your informant?”

         “How about you trust me for once? I mean, in the years we’ve known each other, did I ever _not_ get you what I said I would?” Saul asked with a frown.

         “He has a point,” Jesse said, looking at Walt.

         “Thank you.”

         “I just wanted to be sure.” Walt shook his head. “We can’t afford mistakes with this. I suppose if you don’t return tomorrow we’ll know it was bad information.”

         “I appreciate the confidence,” Saul deadpanned. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading/commenting/leaving kudos everyone! You all are seriously awesome. :D

         “Alright, take a left up here,” Saul said, pointing through the window of the car.

         Walt did so, then sighed. “Are you sure $700,000 was the best you could get?”

         Saul sighed. “Yes, I’m sure. Look, Roxie has to make _two_ people disappear. And she explained her services. Not only will you be getting IDs, she said she could make you both degrees, and come up with backstories for the both of you. Then she’s going to get you a new license plate for the car. That sounds reasonable to me.”

         “Damn,” Jesse muttered from the back seat. “But what kind of backstories?”

         “How should I know? She didn’t want to get into details with someone who isn’t a client,” Saul replied. “Keep going straight.”

         They eventually came to a stop outside of a bar, about three miles out of Omaha. It was rather rundown, made entirely of wood, and when they stepped inside, the walls were covered in memorabilia. Saul looked around in the dim lighting, perked up, and led them over to a faded red booth in the corner.

         A woman that looked to be in her early thirties, her ginger hair tied back into a loose braid, and dressed in a way that could only be described as “casual biker”, was sitting at the booth, a beer clasped between her hands. She peered up at them with dark brown eyes. “Gene, these must be the men you told me about,” Roxie said simply.

         Saul gestured for Walt and Jesse to sit down before he did, so he was on the edge. “That’s right. My, uh, friends here could really use your help, Roxie.”

         Roxie’s inscrutable gaze slid over them. “You’re willing to pay?”

         “Yes,” Walt replied. “Given your services are adequate.” He winced as Jesse elbowed him in the side. He turned a glare on him.

         “Can’t you just say “yes” and leave it at that?” Jesse asked with a shake of his head.

         Walt gave an annoyed huff and turned back to Roxie, only to find her now watching them with an amused smirk.

         “How long have you two been married?” she asked, her smirk turning into an outright grin.

         “What!?” Walt and Jesse exclaimed in unison, causing Saul to roll his eyes.

         “That’s not how it is at all.”

         “I’m not a homo!”

         Roxie laughed loudly, but quickly covered her mouth with her hand. “I was only teasing. _Wow.”_ She took a swig of her beer, her brows arching as he watched them stammer awkwardly for a few moments. “Well, enough of that. Do you have the cash?”

         Walt cleared his throat. “Yes, we do.”

         “Great,” Roxie said, settling purposefully in her seat. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Now, tell me where it is you’re thinking of going, and what your job plans are. Gene told me you do like to plan ahead.”

         With a nod, Walt explained the goal of moving to the San Francisco area, Jesse looking to get into a college, and the fact that he himself would need similar degrees to what he already had in order to find a profitable job.

         Roxie rested her cheek on her fist. “I see. You taught before, yes?”

         “High school chemistry,” Walt said.

         “Right.” Roxie turned her attention to Jesse. “And have you been to college before?”

         Jesse scratched at the back of his neck. “Just DeVry University. For data systems management, nothing interesting.”

         Tapping a finger against the table, Roxie leaned back in her seat. A small smile curled her lips, like the cat that caught the canary. “I already have something in mind for you,” she said, nodding to herself. “A blank canvas, just ready to be painted on.”

         “Uh...” Jesse glanced at Walt, looking confused.

         Walt shrugged.

         Roxie gave Walt another once over. “You, on the other hand, will be a challenge.”

         “Does that mean you won’t do it?” Walt asked with a frown.

         “Of course not. A challenge is always fun,” Roxie replied, waving his concerns away. “You’ll follow me to my studio, so we can talk a little further, and we’ll take it from there. But the payment will happen up front.” She got up from the booth. “Come on.”

 

         The “studio” turned out to be a well lit, sage green room above a bike shop. A space for photos to be taken was set up against the back wall. The moment they were all inside, Roxie began circling Walt and Jesse, frowning in thought. She plucked at their clothes a few times then stopped in front of them. “Yeah, we’ll definitely need to go for a makeover.”

         “A makeover?” Jesse asked, squinting at her.

         “Yes,” Roxie replied. “Gene gave me your mugshots and you’ll definitely get caught if you go around looking exactly the same.”

         Walt crossed his arms over his chest. It made sense to do, as long as it was within reason. “How much of a makeover?”

         Roxie tilted her head this way and that. “Hmm. Well, I have a friend who’d be willing to style your hair and work on your facial hair too.” Her gaze zeroed in on Walt. “Is the messy hair and beard a usual for you or just a prison thing?”

         “No, it’s not a prison thing; however, I used to be bald and have a goatee. Before that I had full hair and a mustache,” Walt explained.

         “Huh. I’ll have him keep that in mind, then. But you’ll probably have to go clean shaven if we’re staying away from the usual,” Roxie said, nodding to herself. She turned to Jesse. “What about you?”

         Jesse shrugged. “This is how I usually look, yo. I did shave my head once, though, but I don’t change it up a lot.”

         “Alright.” Roxie nodded again. “Well, I’ll leave it up to my friend to deal with that, but your outfits will also need changing. You can keep your normal clothes, but having something a little different than your usual will also help sell that you’re different people.”

         Walt sighed. “Fine. When do we do this?”

         “I’ll contact Gene with the details once I have them. We’ll go clothes shopping after,” Roxie replied with a small smile. She held out her hand, palm up. “But first, payment.”

         Walt handed over the $700,00. Not without some regret, though he knew it was worth it. “So, how long will this all take?” he asked.

         Roxie flicked through the bills, then set them by a camera on a table by the windows. “It depends, but I’d say maybe a week. Three tops, if something goes wrong. Not that I expect it to, but I like to cover my bases.”

         Before Walt could complain, Jesse stepped around him. “Thanks. This is really important, so it’s good to get it right. Patience is a virtue, right?” he said, shooting Walt a look. The little shit.

         “Right.”

         “Mhm.” Roxie glanced between them. “You sure you don’t want to be registered as married?”

         “They’re sure,” Saul said, before either Walt or Jesse could go off.

 

 

* * *

 

 

         “Through the _sun roof?”_ Jesse repeated, jaw dropped.

         “Yep!” Saul laughed and took another swig of beer. He was well on his way to wasted, and had been telling stories about being “Slippin’ Jimmy” or whatever. Saul had claimed it was in celebration of things finally starting to work out.

         Jesse shook his head, snickering. “Jeez, and people think I’m a screw up.”

         “Don’t go getting any ideas,” Mr. White warned.

         “Ew, fuck no! I’d do a lot of things, yo, but even that’s too much for me,” Jesse said, grimacing. Even if he were full on drunk and not just slightly tipsy, he’d never have thought up something like what Saul had done.

         Mr. White chuckled and smiled, a sign that he was at least as buzzed as Jesse if not completely tanked. It was hard to tell with the guy. Still, it was nice to see.

         A grin spread over Jesse’s lips as an idea struck. “Yo, Mr. White, you know about our crazy stories, what about you? You ever do anything fun when you were younger?”

         “Hm.” Mr. White tapped his empty beer bottle against his leg. “If you mean “fun” the way I think you do, then not particularly. Of course I was in college during the late 70’s, so there was some experimentation here and there.”

         “I guess it kinda makes sense. You did get high at my house that one time,” Jesse said with a shake of his head.

         “Really?” Saul asked, brows raised.

         Mr. White shrugged. “Like I said, it was the 70’s. And I only indulged a couple of times. If anything, drinking was my vice of choice. Although”—he gave a short laugh—“there was that time Elliot and I found that mixing being high with having an entire lab at your disposal could end with some rather humorous results.”

         Jesse rolled his eyes. Of course Mr. White would still be a giant nerd about getting high. Then he frowned. “Hey, wait! How could you give me all that crap about getting high when you did that too?” he demanded, and definitely not pouting.

         “There’s a difference between using pot two or three times, and being an addict who will use anything within reach to get their fix whenever they want,” Mr. White replied.

         He’d said it casually, but Jesse still felt the sting of his words, flinching. “I didn’t use _anything_ within reach. I never even tried heroin until...”

         Mr. White’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t meant to be directed at you. That was...unfair. You’ve been clean and doing very well.” He gently gripped Jesse’s shoulder, eyes soft and apologetic.

         Jesse dropped his gaze, but nodded. That hand moved to cup his cheek and he looked up again. However, before he could come up with something to say, he noticed something else. Saul had apparently had one too many drinks and had fallen asleep in the chair while they’d been talking. “Jeez.”

         “That’s inconvenient,” Mr. White muttered, having turned to see what Jesse was looking at. He sighed, stood, and went to shake Saul’s shoulder. There was no response. Mr. White gave him a light smack to the cheek. Still nothing.

         “Maybe we can drag him to his bed?” Jesse suggested, getting up and taking the beer from Saul’s slack hand and setting it on the ground.

         “Maybe.”

         However, with both of them being slightly drunk and Saul’s dead weight, it didn’t seem like they’d be getting him very far. Jesse yanked on his arm a little too hard and sent himself sprawling back on his ass. “Ow! Dammit...”

         Mr. White sighed and shook his head. “Then again, maybe we should leave him.”

         “Yeah. Great idea,” Jesse retorted, plopping back down onto the couch. “Guess it wouldn’t be impossible to fall asleep sitting up.”

         “Here, we can prop a pillow up against the back of the couch,” Mr. White said, doing just that. He frowned a little.

         “What?”

         Mr. White shook his head and settled back on the couch. That was when Jesse saw the problem. They’d need to be pretty much right on top of each other to both use the pillow. Normally he might’ve felt awkward about it, but considering he’d literally shared a bed with the guy before… Jesse scooted up close against Mr. White’s side.

         Though he didn’t say anything, Mr. White relaxed a little and, slowly, curled his arm around Jesse’s shoulders. Jesse felt that stupid heat in his cheeks, but allowed himself to drop his head onto Mr. White’s shoulder. As embarrassing as it was, it was also kind of nice.

         “Hey, uh, what do you think our new names will be? Hopefully nothing lame,” Jesse said after a few minutes.

         “Hm? I don’t know. But I’m sure they’ll be fine. They’re meant to be normal, so we don’t stand out,” Mr. White replied. “Then again, considering Roxie’s personality, who knows. I’d like to think she’d be professional about it.”

         Jesse huffed. “It’s gonna be weird, not calling you Mr. White in public and shit.”

         Mr. White pet his hair. “You’ll get used to it. Besides, you can call me that in private, or by my actual name. I’m no longer your teacher after all.”

         “What, like Walter or Walt? It always feels a little weird to use your name,” Jesse muttered. He’d really only ever called him by his name when he was pissed. “Guess I could, though.”

         “We’ll have time to practice getting used to our new names on our way to San Francisco. I wouldn’t worry about it,” Mr. White assured him.

         Jesse nodded and settled a little more. He was right, and it wasn’t, like, a huge deal. Besides, Mr. White had done it before, so he’d probably be good at remembering their new names. Feeling a little better about it all, Jesse closed his eyes and drifted off.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's reading this story! I hope you enjoy this next chapter, it was a fun one to write. :)

         “Soooo, what are we doing?” Jesse asked as he followed Mr. White into the library. Apparently Saul had given him the okay on that.

         “Since Saul doesn’t have a computer of his own, we have to come here,” Mr. White replied, making his way over to the computers. They looked kind of old, as far as Jesse was concerned. “I was thinking we would see if we can figure out where, exactly, we’re moving to.”

         Jesse shrugged. It had to be more interesting than cards or daytime TV. Maybe. Jesse slumped down in a chair at the computer next to the one Mr. White chose. “What do you think we should look for?”

         Mr. White logged on to the computer and brought up Google. “I don’t think we need to go crazy with whatever we get. Preferably, we’d get something with enough space to allow us an office, or somewhere you can do your art.”

         “Yo! We should get someplace where I can set up some drums! Then I could show you how awesome my band would’ve been,” Jesse exclaimed, already feeling more excited about looking for houses. Until someone nearby hushed him. Right, library.

         Despite Mr. White’s grimace, he nodded. “That too,” he agreed. His tone suggested that probably wouldn’t happen, though. “So, you wanted to be in San Francisco, right?”

         “Sure. Doesn’t have to be, but I thought it’d make things easier,” Jesse replied. “But I don’t want to be in the middle of nowhere either.”

         “I can agree with you there,” Mr. White said with a small smile. He typed a bit, then brought up a real estate page on one tab, and Google Maps on another. “Let’s see what we can find.”

         They went through several listings all over, staying within a reasonable price range. Jesse leaned over a little more and jabbed his finger at the screen. “What about that? It’s an actual house, instead of just a condo or apartment.”

         Mr. White clicked onto the house. “The price is pretty good at $497,750. It only has two bedrooms, however.”

         Jesse snorted. “What, you planning on inviting people over?”

         “No, the third room would be for an office,” Mr. White said, rolling his eyes.

         “Oh. Yeah, totally,” Jesse muttered. Now that he was thinking about it, it felt weirdly domestic house hunting with Mr. White. It definitely wasn’t how he’d seen his life going when he was still in school. If someone had told him then that he’d be buying a house with annoying old Mr. White after breaking out of prison for making meth, he probably would have kicked their ass. But here he was. And honestly, Jesse didn’t think he minded.

         “It does have a garage, though. Apparently there used to be someone else living in it, so it could make for a good office or art studio.” Mr. White scrolled through the pictures. “It could use some touching up, but it looks livable as is.”

         Jesse grinned. “Cool. So, is that like, what we’re going to go for?”

         “I think so,” Mr. White replied.

 

 

* * *

 

 

         Walt stood from the stylist’s chair and rubbed at his newly shaven chin. It was strange, seeing himself in the mirror and looking much like he had back around when Junior had been born.

         “Oh, nice!” Roxie exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “You look ten years younger.”

         “Hm.” Walt couldn’t help but smile a little at that. His hair had been colored just a bit, enough to get rid of the gray hairs that had started to crop up a few months ago, and then swept to the side and back a little. It looked effortless and classy. And the way Jesse was staring didn’t hurt his ego either.

         “Yeah, it’s kind of weird,” Jesse added as he was guided into the chair himself. “But, like, in a good way.”

         Alex—Roxie’s stylist friend—patted through Jesse’s hair. “You have nice hair already, it’d be a shame to get rid of it all,” he said, considering. “Ah, no, I’ve got it. I’m thinking something a little more trendy. Much shorter on the sides, maybe even slightly shaved by the base of your neck. But we’ll leave most of the length. Perhaps quaff it a little. What do you think?”

         “I don’t know, man. I don’t want to do something that needs a lot of work, you know?” Jesse replied.

         “It won’t be trouble at all, since you’ve got a lot of body naturally,” Alex said, easing Jesse back in the chair so he could wash his hair. “As for your facial hair… It won’t be anything fancy—I’m not a barber—but we’ll figure that out once we do your hair. One thing’s for sure, we’re getting rid of that soul patch there. That’s never been flattering on anyone.”

         “He did good work. If I didn’t know it was you, I might actually think you were someone else,” Saul said, moving to stand beside Walt. “Well, sort of. New clothes will help.”

         Walt had to agree. However, he was a little worried about what Roxie would try to dress him in. He didn’t care much for what he wore in particular, but he didn’t want to look like an idiot.

         “Alright, well, some gel might be required until your hair grows out a little more, but in general it’s pretty easy upkeep,” Alex said as he cut the sides and back of Jesse’s hair.

         “I guess that’s fine,” Jesse replied with a little shrug.

         “Good.” Alex fluffed Jesse’s hair with a blow drier, swept it up and back with a comb, and worked a small amount of gel into it, spinning the chair around as needed.

         When he was finally done, Walt had to admit Jesse looked very good. Not a drastic difference, especially considering all that was done for his facial hair was cleaning up along the jaw and neck, getting rid of the patch of hair under his chin, and thinning the rest.

         Jesse turned to look at himself. Eyes wide, he reached up to touch his hair. “Oh, huh, I was expecting it to be stiff or some shit with the gel.”

         “Nope, as long as you use the right product it won’t be stiff,” Alex said, he walked over to his little desk in the corner of his private salon. “I’ll write down some options for you. Like I said, you might be able to get it to stay like that without much effort eventually.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

         “It feels like we’re in one of those chick-flicks with the makeover montages,” Jesse muttered as he, Mr. White, and Saul followed Roxie through a clothing store. He hadn’t paid any attention to what it was called, it didn’t really matter. Besides, if it went as well as the hair thing yesterday, maybe it’d be okay that they were in some fancy looking store.

         “I didn’t realize you were a fan,” Mr. White said, smirking.

         Jesse shot him a glare. “An ex girlfriend loved them. Not like I watched them by myself or anything.”

         “Alright, we’ll start with you,” Roxie said, grabbing Jesse’s arm and dragging him into the racks. “This section should have things that work for your age. Casual, but stylish.”

         “Uh, okay?” Jesse looked around at the clothes, feeling a little out of his depth. None of the clothing looked like shit he’d buy. But he guessed that was the point.

         Roxie tore through the racks, snatching up shirts and pants, holding some up to Jesse’s chest, putting some back, and shoving the rest into his arms. Mr. White had the nerve to look amused the entire time. So did Saul, when he returned from looking through the store by himself. Assholes.

         “Try those on, see if they fit,” Roxie said, pointing at the dressing room. “Come out when you have an outfit on that fits, and we’ll work with it.”

         Trying not to roll his eyes—honestly it felt like shopping with his mom when he was, like, eight all over again—Jesse headed inside. He stepped out a minute later in a fitted navy hoodie and gray jeans. It was the most like his own style, except it actually fit him instead of being several sizes too big.

         Roxie had him spin. “Well, it’s a start. Probably good for going to the store or hanging around at home. Next.”

         The next one Jesse tried was a blue ombre denim shirt with beige jeans that were rolled up a little at the bottom. He hadn’t been sure when he’d seen the clothes, but he actually didn’t hate it.

         “Ah, that’s a good one,” Roxie said with a grin. “Colorful jeans are in this year, so you’re up to date, but not in a crazy way.”

         Jesse glanced at Mr. White, to see him nodding a little. Well at least it looked good, then. He knew Mr. White would have no problems telling him if he’d looked stupid.

         “Yeah, looks good. Much better than those baggy things you usually wear,” Saul commented.

         “Next?” Jesse asked, pointedly ignoring Saul.

         “Next,” Roxie agreed with a grin.

         A couple of other shirts and jeans he tried on, but either they didn’t fit, or were weird looking. Roxie had apparently tried to sneak in some skinny jeans, but those were a firm no. Finally he settled on a white Henley under a gray striped sweater jacket...thing, and a pair of dark jeans.

         Roxie nodded when he came out. She moved the sweater aside and plucked at the Henely a few times, then—apparently satisfied—stepped back. “Yes, okay, I think that should be it. Other than some shoes, but those work for basics. I’ll have a few pictures of other clothes I think would suit you ready for later.”

         “Okay… Thanks,” Jesse replied. He figured if they were too crazy he didn’t actually have to follow the suggestions.

         “Now, on to you,” Roxie said, smirking at Mr. White. Jesse found himself grinning as well. It would be interesting to see what she put him in.

         Mr. White didn’t let on to how he felt about that, but he followed her through the isles, receiving the same treatment as Jesse. When Roxie decided she’d chosen enough, she sent him into the dressing room.

         He started off with a white button-up shirt and some gray pants. Roxie stepped up into Mr. White’s personal space and inspected him. “Hmmm...” She rolled the sleeves up to expose his forearms. “There, much better.”

         For whatever reason, Jesse agreed, the sleeves being rolled up did...something. What, he didn’t know, but he liked it.

         “Easy enough,” Mr. White said, before heading back into the dressing room. He returned wearing a blue blazer over a white-and-blue striped button up and another pair of gray pants. The new ones appeared to have some sort of tiny pattern that Jesse couldn’t recognize. “You didn’t include matching pants, so I chose these. They seemed the least offensive.”

         “That was the point,” Roxie replied. “Another new trend.”

         Mr. White raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t strike me as the type to care about fashion trends.”

         “Oh my god,” Jesse groaned, shaking his head.

         Roxie set her hands on her hips. “Oh I don’t. Not for me, anyway. However, this isn’t about _me,_ it’s about making sure _you_ don’t look like you. So to do that, trying to stay on trend, even a little bit, is important.”

         “Hey, it’s not so bad. Might actually make sense for a trend,” Saul said, nodding.

         “I don’t know if I trust your opinion, considering the clown shirts you liked,” Mr. White retorted.

         Saul shrugged. “Better that than looking like a jackass.”

         Jesse snickered as Mr. White rolled his eyes and went back to the dressing room.

         Roxie glanced at Saul. “You know you don’t have to follow us everywhere, yeah?”

         “Actually, I do. They’re my… I’m helping them out, so it’s in my best interest to make sure everything works out,” Saul replied.

         When nothing else Roxy had made him try on worked for Mr. White, she relented and took them to buy a couple of new pairs of shoes and Jesse a new beanie, and then they were done. Over all, it hadn’t been a bad experience, just a little weird. Jesse just hoped it was all worth it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

         Walt and Jesse followed Saul up to Roxie’s studio. It was finally time to get their new identities. Saul knocked three times and the door swung open.

         “Good, you’re on time,” Roxie said with a grin, ushering them all inside. “I’ve got everything ready to go.” She handed them both driver’s licenses, degrees, and Jesse an extra couple of papers that appeared to be college related.

         They certainly looked real. Walt noticed in his photo he looked mildly annoyed, but he supposed it was fine. The main differences, of course, were his name and birthday. Walter White was now Robert Barrett, born August 14th of 1958. Then there were the slight differences for his degrees, but it all still looked authentic.

         “Luke Fry? What kind of name is that?” Jesse asked with a frown.

         Roxie arched an eyebrow. “It’s a name that was in circulation around when you were born. Which means it’s not suspicious.”

         “I think it suits you fine,” Walt said.

         “Yeah, I could see you being a Luke. Or maybe an Axel. Something not too crazy, but not too normal either,” Saul agreed from where he was leaning back against a wall.

         Jesse shrugged. “I guess. What about you?”

         Walt held up his ID. “Robert Barrett.”

         “Huh. So, what, I have to call you Mr. Barrett now? Or Rob?” Jesse made a few faces as he tested out the names.

         Roxie cleared her throat. “Anyway, you should also be aware of the simple backstories I created. You can add to them, obviously, but I figured having somewhere to start would be good.” Picking up a folder, she flipped through the pages within until she found what she was looking for. “Here we go. Luke Fry was put into the foster care system in California at about one year old. You were moved from home to home throughout the years until you finally moved out. You don’t know who your real parents are but you’re birthday was agreed to be November 8th. Also, due to moving around so much you had a bit of a troubled youth. That way those scars on your face make sense.”

         Jesse grimaced and touched his face. “Okay...”

         “Now, as for Robert Barrett: You lived most of your life in Colorado. You worked at a pharmacy for the longest time, before deciding to get a degree to teach, ah, physics. However, you decided to leave Colorado to pursue that career. Possibly. It was a mid-life crisis type situation,” Roxie explained, closing her folder. “You two can decided how it was you met and whatever that will entail. But I think that works for your purposes. Oh, I almost forgot, resumes.”

         Roxie handed them both printouts of some basic looking resumes.

         “Yo, you really went all out,” Jesse commented, looking it over.

         “If I’m going to do something, I’m going to do it right,” Roxie replied. “Now, I gave you both sales experience. Luke more so than Robert, but that’s because Gene mentioned something about Jesse being good at that. However, Robert has some business experience. Nothing flashy, but I figured it would make sense given your skill set. The rest is pretty generic, but I figured you could update those on your own. This should be good enough to get you hired someplace, though.”

         Walt nodded. “This is all very helpful.”

         “Yeah, thanks,” Jesse added, smiling.

         Roxie smiled and gave a pleased hum. “You’re quite welcome. However, you’d best not mess this up. While I’ve done my part, if you get caught for any reason, none of this can be traced back to me, and it’ll be your shit to deal with. Got it?”

         “Yes,” Walt replied. “We’ll be careful.”

 


	15. Chapter 15

         “Do you have everything?” Saul asked, as he watched Jesse and Mr. White load up their car with the necessary supplies, the briefcase, and the suitcase he’d given them. “If you leave anything behind, I’m not sending it to you.”

         “We have everything,” Mr. White replied dryly.

         Jesse nodded. “Yeah, we’re good to go.”

         “Good,” Saul said.

         “Uh, thanks again. For, you know, helping us and stuff.” Jesse held out his hand. “We really appreciate it, yo.”

         Saul blinked, then smiled and shook his hand. “You’re welcome, kid. Just don’t make me regret it, ‘kay? Hope everything works out for you.”

         “Thanks. Same to you,” he replied, smiling back at him. He meant it. Saul hadn’t owed them anything, but had decided to help anyway, and even go above and beyond. It was probably more than they deserved.

         Jesse slid into the passenger’s side of the car, then rolled down the window to wave goodbye. Saul waved back as Mr. White pulled out of the driveway and onto the road. He only rolled the window back up when Saul was out of sight.

         “Once we reach I-80 we’ll just be following that until we reach San Francisco,” Mr. White said, heading for the highway. “We might have to stop somewhere for the night, however.”

         “Yo, how long is it going to take?” Jesse asked with a small frown.

         Mr. White glanced at him. “If we were driving nonstop, a little more than twenty-four hours.”

         Damn, that was a long drive. “Guess it won’t be too bad. We can afford to stay somewhere instead of just staying in the car,” Jesse said with a shrug.

         “Just don’t expect luxury. We’re trying to save money, not spend it all before we get there,” Mr. White replied.

         Jesse rolled his eyes. “Jeez, yeah I know. Can you get off my back about that? I’m not going to waste it all.” He startled when Mr. White’s hand patted his knee.

         “You’re right. I’m sorry. Old habits die hard, I suppose,” he said, giving Jesse a small half-smile.

         “Guess you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t find something to bitch about,” Jesse replied, grinning.

         Mr. White shook his head, expression amused. “That’s probably true.”

         Jesse snorted and leaned his head against the window. As they drove, however, he ended up watching Mr. White. Not in like, a super obvious way, and it was totally just because staring at the same scenery for hours on end was boring. That and he was still getting used to seeing him looking so attractive.

         Jesse’s gaze snapped back to the road outside, his cheeks growing warm. _What the fuck?_ he thought. _No… There’s no way I just thought of Mr. White as attractive._ Except he had. But Jesse was sure he’d never been a homo before. Okay, so maybe he’d thought Badger was kind of cute back when he got high all the time. And when Mr. White had grown out that goatee and shaved his head he’d looked badass and Jesse might’ve had a few dreams he’d pretended never happened. Waking up next to him hadn’t been so bad either…

         Oh god. Jesse was totally gay for Mr. White.

         “—Jesse?”

         Jesse turned to see Mr. White looking at him with concern. “Huh?”

         “You were breathing strangely. Are you alright?” Mr. White asked.

         “Oh—oh, yeah, I’m fine,” Jesse said with a smile he didn’t feel. “Just, uh, holding back a sneeze. Nothing to worry about, Mr. White.”

         By the way Mr. White’s eyes narrowed, it was clear he didn’t quite believe him. Luckily he decided it was a betteridea to drop it. “You should start referring to me as my alias. I’ll be doing the same. Just to get used to it. We wouldn’t want to slip-up in front of people.”

         Jesse nodded. “Yo, right, totally forgot. So, do I like, just call you Rob? I don’t think you ever said.”

         “Rob is fine,” Mr. White replied.

         That would be hard to get used to. Jesse had rarely ever used Mr. White’s actual first name. Maybe he should start, considering everything. But first he’d have to use the fake one. “Sure thing, _Rob_ ,” he said. Jesse grimaced. “God, that’s weird to say.”

         “Maybe it would be easier if you didn’t say it so sarcastically, _Luke,_ ” Mr. White retorted. He shook his head. “That is weird...”

         Jesse gave a small huff of a laugh and slouched in his seat. His mind instantly returned to the problem from before. He had a crush on Mr. White. Jesse fiddled with the end of his new hoodie and frowned. How was he supposed to deal with something like that? After everything… Sure, Jesse had decided to try and just move on. Living in the past brought him nothing but pain. But having a crush on the guy?

         Mr. White _had_ been a lot nicer; had done more for him than he ever had before, and with seemingly nothing to gain from it. After all, he had said that he didn’t even know what he would do with his freedom, so getting that wouldn’t have been his goal. At least, Jesse didn’t think so. Mr. White wasn’t married anymore, and he wasn’t going to be able to see his kids. He’d told Jesse his son wanted nothing to do with him. So what would being nice get him?

         Jesse couldn’t think of anything. Beyond just Jesse being happy about it, so… Was that it? Was Mr. White truly being nice, just to be nice? He looked at Mr. White out of the corners of his eyes. Jesse didn’t think the money was the cause, because again, what would he do with it? And he’d been kind to him before they even knew the money was still an option.

         So maybe having a crush on him wasn’t so bad. Jesse didn’t _need_ Mr. White, didn’t rely on him for validation anymore; but, he did want him around. That had to make some kind of difference. The only thing was… How did Mr. White feel about him.?

         He probably didn’t have those kinds of feelings about Jesse. The guy had been married to a woman, and Jesse was not only a guy but a lot younger. Though Jesse could make the reverse argument for himself, so that didn’t mean much. Which lead to another problem; what would he even do if Mr. White _did_ return those feelings? Jesse had no clue.

 

 

* * *

 

 

         Walt watched with amusement as Jesse strode across the hotel room and flopped onto his back on the bed by the window.

         “I ate too much,” Jesse groaned.

         “I’d say so,” Walt agreed with a shake of his head. They had stopped by a local restaurant by the Holiday Inn they had found off the highway. It hadn’t been anything fancy, but the food had been good.

         Jesse propped himself up on his elbows. “I need to take my mind off it. So, like, what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

         Settling on the end of his own bed, Walt leaned forward against his knees. “I’d already made an appointment with the realtor before we left, so we’ll be able to see the house on Tuesday. That means tomorrow we’ll be finding another hotel in the area.”

         “Jesus, we going to have any money left?” Jesse complained.

         Walt rolled his eyes. “We have nearly _five-million_ dollars. Yes, we’ll be spending a few nights there, but we won’t run out.”

         “I know, I was just—whatever. How long do you think it’ll take?” Jesse asked, crossing his legs on the bed and resting his chin in his hand.

         “Well, buying a house always takes a while, what with the paperwork involved,” Walt said. “We’ll also need to find a bank we can use. Roxie said she set up two accounts for us with a small amount of our money, so we just need to make it official wherever we end up. That way we can actually buy the house without raising suspicion.”

         Jesse grimaced. “Ugh, boring.”

         “Boring but necessary.”

 

         The next morning, bright and early, saw them on the road again. Jesse had insisted on doughnuts for breakfast. Walt had clearly gone soft, because he’d agreed to it. Then again, considering how miserable Jesse had been most of the time they’d been together in their lives, seeing his face light up over something silly like doughnuts was worth it.

         “Oh, we’ve got to have some tunes,” Jesse said, turning on the radio. He skipped through the channels until he found some god awful song that Walt wasn’t sure truly counted as “music”.

         “Really?” Walt asked with a frown.

         Jesse shrugged. “This stuff rocks, bitch! Just because you like whatever the cavemen listened to doesn’t mean this isn’t dope.”

         Walt suddenly regretted the doughnuts. “Or we could be adults and switch the station every other song,” he suggested.

         “Huh. I guess that could work,” Jesse said, nodding. “So long as it isn’t anything too lame.”

         “I think you’ll survive,” Walt replied. “Besides, you might actually hear something you like.”

         Jesse snorted. “Sure.”

         That plan lasted almost an hour. Neither of them could handle the other’s music choices, and instead ended up turning the radio off.

         “Hey, so, we never did figure out how we met. As Luke and Rob,” Jesse pointed out after a while.

         Walt looked at him. “Then we should try and think of something now.”

         Jesse drummed on his lap, apparently thinking. “Oh, wait, so you were supposed to be living in Colorado, right?”

         “Yes.”

         “And in Colorado marijuana is, like, legal and shit. So maybe I went to Colorado to buy some. You know, with a fake prescription for the stuff—”

         “Jesse. You’re saying you want our cover story—the thing that is supposed to keep us from being found out as criminals—is that we met because you did something illegal?” Walt said, raising an eyebrow.

         Jesse opened and closed his mouth. “I mean… People aren’t perfect, yo. Wouldn’t it be weirder if I hadn’t gotten in at least a little trouble?” he countered.

         Walt shook his head. “No.”

         “Fine. Then what’s your idea?” Jesse asked, crossing his arms.

         “Let’s see...” Walt knew it would have to be something they would easily remember. Nothing overly complicated, or too impossible. “How about this: when I moved to California to try and pursue teaching, I got a job at your school teaching physics. We got along well, once we figured out that your learning style was more hands-on.”

         “Dude, really?” Jesse said, cheeks pink and eyes wide. “Could you make it sound creepier?”

         Walt frowned. “I simply mean you’re a practical learner. Learning from text books doesn’t work for you.” He certainly hadn’t been implying anything dirty. Walt had to wonder, however, why Jesse always seemed to jump to those sorts of conclusions.

         “Oh. Right. Yeah,” Jesse muttered. “Wait, how are we going to make that believable? Suddenly you were a really nice teacher, huh?”

         “I never said I couldn’t have still been strict, but there needs to be a reason why we’re traveling together and moving in together,” Walt said. Now that sounded… Not dirty, per-say, but like it was definitely implying something. Walt couldn’t say he minded. “Anyway, we could say that we were both headed to San Francisco—I quit my job or something—and we decided to cut down on expenses by going together.”

         Jesse nodded slowly. “Yeah, I guess that could work. I mean, it’s not a complete lie, so it kind of makes it easier,” he replied. He relaxed into his seat again and sighed. “I really feel like this will all work, you know? Everything from before, I think it’s finally over. For good.”

         Walt smiled. “I think you’re right about that.”

         On the side of a rocky cliff dotted with green trees, a blue sign thanked them for visiting Nevada, and a second later another blue sign welcomed them to California.

         “We’re almost there!” Jesse crowed, grinning at him.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, but here's the next chapter. Enjoy! :D

         “Here you go, Robert. Luke. The key to your home, finally,” Mr. Hahn said with a smile, handing the key to Mr. White—Walt. Jesse was still getting used to thinking of him by his first name. “I’m sure you’ll be happy to get out of the hotel.”

         “Very,” Walt agreed.

         Jesse nodded. “Yeah. That place is cramped, yo. Thanks!”

         Their Realtor laughed. “I can imagine.” He shook their hands and then stood from the table at the caf _é_. Jesse had just gotten a job there, so it had been easy to meet during his lunch break. It was a small place, but cheery, with spring green walls, cherry wood floors, and lots of scenic nature pictures—mostly of the ocean.

         Walt smiled, looking relieved. “I’ll handle packing up and getting our things ready while you’re at work. Your shift is done at three, right?”

         “Yep. And tomorrow I don’t have to be in ‘til ten,” Jesse replied.

         “Good. That will give us time to get some furniture moved in.” Walt stood and pocketed the key. “I’ll be by to pick you up, then.”

         “Right.” Jesse nodded once. Then again. Things hadn’t felt so awkward before he realized he had a crush on the guy. “See you.”

         After Walt had left, an arm draped around Jesse’s shoulders. “You don’t know how hard it was not to come over and say hi.”

         Jesse rolled his eyes. “He’ll be back later, I’ll introduce you then.”

         “You better,” Kate said with a huff. “That way I can taunt you about your crush better.”

         “What makes you think I have a crush on that asshole?” Jesse asked, frowning. Kate was only a year younger than him, and not only his coworker, but soon-to-be peer at San Francisco University. If he got accepted.

         Kate grinned and flipped her brunette pony-tail back over her shoulder. “Gaydar. That and the fact you get all blush-y and adorable when you talk about him.”

         “Do not,” Jesse muttered, following her back around the counter.

         “Keep telling yourself that, Luke-y boy,” Kate replied, pinching his cheek. She laughed when he swatted at her hand and started up the coffee maker.

         Jesse smirked. “Like you don’t do that when talking about Alisa”

         “Trying to embarrass me like that doesn’t work when she’s actually my girlfriend. But nice try,” Kate said, laughing.

 

         Jesse spotted Walt as he walked into the cafe. Unfortunately, so did Kate. She smiled at Jesse and arched her thin eyebrows suggestively. He sighed. “Fine.”

         “Jesse, are you ready to go?” Walt asked, only sounding mildly impatient.

         “Yeah, just a second.” Jesse gestured at Kate. “Rob, this is Kate—coworker and annoying new friend. Kate, this is Rob, uh...roommate and ex-teacher.”

         Walt gave him a confused look, then nodded politely to Kate. “Nice to meet you.”

         Kate grinned as she leaned across the counter. “Nice to finally meet _you_. Luke talks about you _all_ the time.”

         “Does he?” Walt asked, amused now.

         “Oh come on! Not all the time,” Jesse complained.

         “Only good things, promise,” Kate said. “Anyway, just wanted to meet you. Friends can get special discounts here.” She winked.

         Walt cleared his throat. “Ah. That’s nice, but I don’t come to places like this often,” he replied. He looked at Jesse. “We should get going.”

         “Yeah!” Jesse hung his apron up in the back and hurried back before Kate could say anything else embarrassing. “See you tomorrow, Kate!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

         The little white house was nestled within a neighborhood about fourteen minutes from the university. Jesse followed Walt up the steps, practically bouncing. The sun was shining, it was warming up, and they had their own house. It was hard not to be excited.

         The front entry led immediately through a fancy curved archway into a large living room, which had two tall windows that looked out at the neighborhood. Both rooms were a light beige and had what their Realtor had called red oak floors. Original to the place, apparently. Both rooms were empty, save for the built-ins by the little stone fireplace in the living room.

         Even so, Jesse was excited. They’d be able to make it their own, and it was a new start. Despite having seen the place already, he needed to see it all again. He stepped into the narrow—slightly dated—kitchen, running his hand over the granite counter tops as he walked through it. There was a small breakfast nook at the far end. It was silly, but he couldn’t wait to eat there.

         The half-bathroom was some weird mix between beige and gray, with an old sink with exposed pipes. Jesse supposed it didn’t matter much since it was just a half-bathroom, but he still kind of wanted to make it a little nicer.

         Jesse peered into the smaller bedroom. It was off-white and kind of oddly shaped. A little like a boxy L. But it had a closet, so that was good, and it had enough space for a bed and a desk. Still, the master bedroom was much nicer, with windows looking out on the little backyard. It was pretty big, with two closets, and it had it’s own bathroom. That had looked like the most updated room, having pale gray walls, a marble counter for the sink, and one of those fancy walk-in showers with slate tiles.

         “I had to look around a few times myself,” Walt said when Jesse got back to the living room.

         “Yeah. Kind of feels weird that we live here now,” Jesse replied with a smile and a shrug.

         Walt nodded. “Let’s get started on that furniture.”

         They hadn’t bought much for the place, yet. Only a couch, a chair, and a TV. Walt had tried to insist that the TV could wait, but Jesse got one anyway. He could live without a bed for a couple of days, he wasn’t sure he could live without something to watch.

         It took some struggling, strategizing, and a lot of swearing, but they eventually got everything in. Walt groaned as he dropped down onto the plush white couch, rubbing at his back. “Alright, that’s enough for a while.”

         Jesse plopped down beside him and stretched his legs out. He rubbed at his stomach, then his wrists, wincing. There was always pain in those spots, mostly dull enough to ignore, but sometimes it got worse. Moving heavy furniture hadn’t helped. “Should’ve gotten someone else to move this stuff in here.”

         “Maybe, but it’s too late now,” Walt replied, stretching so he was sitting similarly to Jesse. “That’s actually a little better. Did you hurt yourself?”

         “Huh?”

         Walt gestured at his wrists. “You’ve been rubbing at your wrists.”

         “I’m fine. Just a little sore.” Eager to change the conversation, Jesse looked around the room and frowned. “Beige is so blah. We’ll have to paint it, yo.”

         “To what?”

         “I don’t know. _Something!_ It doesn’t have to be crazy… Maybe yellow.”

         “Yellow.”

         Jesse shrugged. “I like yellow. It’s happy.”

         “Yellow it is,” Walt said with a chuckle.

 

 

* * *

 

 

         Walt paced through the house, frowning. It had been a little over two weeks since they’d moved to San Francisco, two days since they had moved into the house, and all he had to show for it was a part time job at the local grocery store. It was a job, it paid, and it meant that he was able to put a little of the money they already had into the bank. Still, it was at a grocery store. And when he wasn’t there, he was here.

         He needed to decide whether he wanted to be a teacher again. Walt supposed it hadn’t been all bad. A little tedious, and somewhat annoying, but it was certainly better than what he was doing now. Less of a waste of his time. The main problem would be the background check. Roxie had done an excellent job of getting them new identities, but it hadn’t been tested like it would if he were to apply to a teaching job.

         The front door opening pulled Walt from his thoughts. He walked into the living room and spotted Jesse standing in the front entry. Walt frowned. Something was wrong. Jesse was staring at the floor, hands trembling. Walt approached carefully. “Jesse?”

         Without a word, Jesse rushed forward, wrapping his arms around Walt and burying his face in his chest. With the way Jesse’s shoulders shook, and the muffled sniffles, it was obvious he was crying. It was the reason why that was a complete mystery.

         Walt curled his arms protectively around Jesse, petting the back of his hair with one hand. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?” he asked, trying to keep his tone gentle. He didn’t want to upset him further by mistake.

         Jesse shook his head. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. He lifted his head just a little. “I just… Everything was going okay, you know? And then I felt so guilty.”

         “Guilty? For what? You have nothing to feel guilty for,” Walt said, a little baffled.

         “I do, though!” Jesse insisted. He pulled back and wiped at his eyes. “I got Rabbit killed when I said I’d help him. My friends helped us escape prison! I’ve messed up so fucking much, and now I get to what—live out my dreams? Be happy? I don’t deserve it.”

         Walt cupped Jesse’s face in his hands. “That is ridiculous, Jesse,” he said, tone stern. “Yes, you’ve made mistakes, but none of what you just listed right now is your fault.”

         Jesse blinked up at him, his eyes were still watery. “It is, though.”

         “It’s not,” Walt insisted. He didn’t know why today Jesse was suddenly relapsing, but it was not okay. Jesse had been doing so well. “You _do_ deserve to be happy. More than most people I know.” Including himself. But Walt didn’t voice that thought.

         “You mean that?” Jesse asked.

         “I do,” Walt replied. He pulled Jesse back into a hug, and after a moment he relaxed. “You’re a good boy, Jesse. I need you to remember that.”

         Jesse gave a little nod, fingers curling into the back of Walt’s shirt. “I’ll try.”

         “Good.” Walt stroked his hair. “Can I ask what brought this on?”

         “Like I said, I don’t know,” Jesse said, slowly detaching himself. He rubbed at his face and trudged into the living room. “I was talking with Kate, telling her about my comic idea. She really liked it, thought it was cool. And then on the way home I started freaking out.”

         Walt followed him and sat beside him on the couch. He wasn’t sure what to say about that, exactly. Perhaps a change in conversation was the best option. “You’re still planning on making your comic?”

         That had been the right move. Jesse’s eyes lit up and he nodded. “Hell yeah, I am! I was thinking about going and getting some art supplies and a couple new sketchbooks, maybe.” He shrugged and smiled. “If I get into the university, maybe I can learn how to actually make it. I was thinking of getting into woodworking, too.”

         “That’s quite a lot to tackle,” Walt said with a chuckle. “Are you sure you can handle that much school?”

         “Uh, yeah. I’ll be learning about shit I actually like,” Jesse huffed, rolling his eyes. His expression softened a little. “I mean, science is fine and all, but I always liked art better.”

         Walt recalled how Jesse used to insist that cooking meth had been an art, not a science. Going so far as to get offended when Walt pointed out otherwise. He nodded. “Then I expect to see much better grades than what you got in my class.”

         Jesse’s eyes narrowed and he smirked. “What do I get if I do?”

         “Really?” Walt scoffed.

         “Yeah, really. Shouldn’t I get some kind of reward if I get good grades?” Jesse said, pouting.

         Walt shook his head, amused. “Alright, fine. If you get A’s and B’s in your classes, you’ll get a reward.”

         “Sweet!” Jesse exclaimed, pumping his fists into the air.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, everyone, hope this chapter makes up for it. ;)

         Jesse handed a caramel macchiato to the customer and finally got to go on break. It wasn’t an awful job, in fact he kind of liked it, but it was a little overwhelming sometimes. Some people’s orders sounded completely made up, and Kate had to assure him several times they were all real. Jesse had always assumed coffee was just coffee.

         He made his way into the back room, grabbed his sketchbook and a pencil, his lunch, and sat down on the little black pleather couch. Jesse flipped it open and began to draw. The first few panels of his comic had already been planned out, but he really wanted to make sure the backstories were epic enough.

         “Hey, Luke,” Kate greeted as she wandered in.

         “Hey,” Jesse replied, taking a bite of his sandwich.

         “Oh, working on your comic?” Kate made a beeline for him and propped herself on the arm of the couch. “Let me see!”

         Jesse snorted. “It’s not done.”

         “So? You only told me about it, I haven’t actually seen anything,” Kate said, making grabby hands at him.

         “Fine,” Jesse said with a huff, handing the sketchbook over. He finished his sandwich as Kate looked over his drawings.

         “These are really good,” Kate said. “Even though some are just sketches, I’m impressed. Though, you could probably do some more work on perspective.”

         Jesse leaned over to see where she pointed at a particular panel. He guessed it looked a little off. “You know about art things?”

         Kate shrugged. “Not really. A couple of my friends at Uni take art classes, though, so I’ve picked up a couple of things. Also I have eyes.” She bumped his shoulder with a grin. “But since you said you’re planning on taking those classes, you’ll probably figure everything out there.”

         “Yeah, I guess,” Jesse said, trying not to feel too put out.

         “But you really do have good stuff here,” Kate insisted. “Though, I think I have _one_ true critique.”

         Jesse raised an eyebrow. “What?”

         Flipping through the pages, she found one where Jesse had drawn the main cast. “You’ve only got one female character. Three if you count Captain Science’s wife and baby daughter, but it doesn’t seem like they do much. Even so, you’ve got like, a ton of guys. I mean, Apology Girl looks pretty cool, but you could add a couple more.”

         “Huh.” Jesse frowned at his picture. He hadn’t really thought about it, but now that she’d pointed it out, he could see what she was talking about. “You’ve got a good point.”

         Kate smiled. Her eyes widened. “Oh! You should base one off of me!” She jumped up and struck a heroic pose. Then attempted something that might have been karate.

         Jesse laughed. “Oh yeah? Guess I don’t have any female villains yet...”

         “Very funny,” Kate retorted. “Then again, villains are some of the best characters. I’d be cool with that.”

 

         As soon as he and Walt got home, Jesse was tearing open the envelope he’d gotten from San Francisco State University. He needed to know if he’d gotten in, like, yesterday. He unfolded the letter and, holding his breath, read it.

         And read it again.

         “Well?” Walt asked.

         Jesse flung his arms around Walt’s neck, cheeks hurting already from how hard he was grinning. “I got in!” He pulled back to look at the letter, then hugged Walt again. “I did it! I got in!”

         Walt chuckled and returned the hug. “That’s excellent, Jesse. Congratulations.” He pet Jessie’s hair a couple of times before stepping back a little. “Can I see it?”

         “Oh yeah! Sure, here,” Jesse said, handing him the letter. He never thought he’d be so happy to be going to school, but he was.

         “This really is great.” Walt smiled down at him. “I’m proud of you, Jesse.”

         Jesse looked at his feet, though he couldn’t take the smile off his face. “Thanks.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

         Only a week later, Walt wasn’t sure if he was still thrilled with Jesse going to college. Well, that wasn’t quite right. He was glad Jesse wanted to pursue higher learning—even if it was for art—but part of him wished that hadn’t included him spending so much time not only with Kate, but now with his new classmates.

         It wasn’t fair of Walt to think that way. He was well aware he was being unreasonable, which was why he kept such thoughts to himself. Jesse deserved to have friends his own age, and Walt was glad that Jesse was happy. However, a little voice in the back of his head kept trying to convince him that soon Jesse wouldn’t want him around any more. Now that he had friends, what reasons could he possibly have to want Walt in his life?

         None. That was the answer. Walt was just a reminder of all the awful things that had happened in his past. He was a leech, sucking away any potential at true happiness. Soon, Jesse would realize that, and then Walt would have to figure out what to do. He supposed he could stick with his original plan and turn himself in.

         “Man, I’m pretty sure I can hear you thinking,” Jesse complained from where he was curled into Walt’s side. “Aren’t you watching the movie?”

         Right. Walt sighed. “I am,” he replied. Jesse had insisted they watch Tron Legacy, which had apparently come out in December.

         “Uh-huh. Let me guess, you just don’t like cool movies,” Jesse teased.

         “It’s a fine movie,” Walt said, rolling his eyes. “The effects are nice, but the plot could be better. Though I don’t suppose you can expect much considering the first movie wasn’t all that great, either.”

         Jesse frowned. “There was another movie? I thought it was based on a bunch of games or something?”

         Walt nodded, a little glad to have his attention turned away from his melancholy thoughts. “It was a movie, first. Actually… Yes, the first movie must have come out a couple of years before you were born. You were born in ‘84, right?”

         “Yeah.”

         “I believe Tron came out in either ‘81 or ‘82,” Walt said. “So, yes, just about two years. Elliot dragged me and Gretchen to go see it after a presentation, thinking it would be some amazing movie.” He huffed and shook his head. “Again, the effects were well done, but the story was lackluster.”

         Jesse laughed. “Wow.” He let his head rest against Walt’s shoulder again. “I don’t care about the plot. I like the way it looks and the action is the bomb.”

         “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Walt muttered fondly. Maybe things weren’t so bad. Worrying about it certainly wouldn’t change things. For now, Walt would enjoy whatever time he had with Jesse.

 

 

* * *

 

 

         Walt opened the first can and poured the buttery yellow paint into the red plastic tray as Jesse finished smoothing out the tarp across the living room. The furniture had been covered up to keep any paint off, and blue tape blocked off the white trim along the ceilings and baseboards.

         “Nice, I really like that color. Bet it’ll look awesome actually on the walls,” Jesse said, scooping up a roller.

         “Don’t forget, you want to roll it on in one direction, otherwise it will look messy,” Walt warned, covering his own roller in the paint.

         “Right.”

         The two of them worked carefully through the room. Well, Walt did. Jesse tried, but tended to miss spots higher on the walls, so Walt went in after and took care of them. They had just barely finished with the first coat, when paint splattered against Walt’s face and chest.

         “What the hell?” Walt sputtered, wiping at his face and glaring up at Jesse. “Did you do that on purpose?”

         Jesse’s eyes went wide. “What? No. Of course not! It was an accident,” he replied in tone that said it was definitely _not_ an accident.

         “Uh-huh,” Walt drawled. He used his roller to fling paint at Jesse in retaliation.

         “Ah! Not cool!” Jesse complained, wiping at his face.

         “Says the one who started it,” Walt said with a smirk.

         Jesse snorted. “And you say you’re the mature one? _Pfft,_ yeah right.” He dipped his finger in the paint and flicked it at Walt. “Ha!”

         And from there it devolved into a childish match of who could splatter the other more. Until Walt had to call a stop to keep them from wasting too much paint. Jesse collapsed to the floor, laughing, and Walt sat beside him, shaking his head in amusement.

         “We look like Jackson Pollock paintings,” Walt huffed, cleaning off his glasses.

         Jesse looked down at himself, then at Walt. “Yo, we totally do!” he agreed, grinning. “If he had a yellow phase, or whatever.”

         Walt realized right then and there, sitting with Jesse on the floor, that there was never a chance he wouldn’t fall for him. Before he could think too hard about it, he leaned over and pressed his lips to Jesse’s. He felt Jesse tense under his hand, which had come up to cup his cheek. Walt started to pull away, but was stopped by Jesse surging forward and kissing him back.

         “I suppose this means you didn’t mind that,” Walt said, breaking the kiss.

         Jesse grinned, looping his arms around Walt’s neck as he climbed onto his lap. “And I guess it means I was right when I said you were totally gay for me,” he teased.

         “You’re allowed to be right from time to time,” Walt allowed with a smirk.

         “Shut up,” Jesse laughed, kissing him. Walt chuckled into the kiss. His hand splayed over Jesse’s thigh, and the other pressed against his lower back, urging him closer. Walt had to admit, Jesse was a good kisser, eager and sweet at the same time. And responsive. He scraped his teeth across Jesse’s bottom lip, and Jesse’s mouth dropped open in a moan, allowing Walt to lick his way inside.

         Jesse tasted like Doritos and Gatorade. It should have been disgusting, but Walt could only feel an amused fondness tugging at his heart, especially when Jesse’s hands caressed his cheeks and jaw. Walt pulled back a little, their noses bumped, and he rested his forehead against Jesse’s.

_“Fuck me,”_ Jesse breathed.

         It could have been a request or an exclamation, either way Walt responded. “If that’s what you want.”

         Pretty blue eyes were nearly eclipsed by black as Jesse licked his lips. He nodded.

         “You’ll have to get up,” Walt said, giving Jesse’s ass a squeeze.

         Jesse groaned, his hips twitched, but he quickly clambered off Walt’s lap and got to his feet. Walt stood and led him through the house to his bedroom. As soon as they got there, Jesse pulled him down into another kiss. His hands slid along Walt’s exposed forearms before gripping the front of his shirt. Walt grabbed his ass and ground their hips together, and if he hadn’t already been getting hard, feeling Jesse’s excitement against his thigh would have certainly done it. Jesse’s head tipped back and he moaned.

         “Beautiful,” Walt muttered, latching onto the pale skin of Jesse’s neck. He tugged at Jesse’s shirt, and Jesse shifted away enough to let him pull it off. Walt pressed open mouthed kisses along his collarbones, and reached down to cup him through his pants.

         “Shit, Mr. White,” Jesse panted, thrusting up against Walt’s palm.

         Walt smirked. “You haven’t called me that in a while.” He let go, only to unzip Jesse’s jeans and shove them, along with his boxers, down to pool around his ankles. “On the bed.”

         Jesse stepped out of his clothes and turned to get into the big, soft bed Walt had bought. Walt undressed and set his own clothes on the chair in the corner before joining him. “Yo, no tighty-whities?” Jesse asked with a snort, eyeing the black boxer briefs Walt had discarded.

         “When we went shopping I figured I should change things up,” Walt said, settling between Jesse’s legs. “I would think you’d prefer these.”

         “Hell yeah,” Jesse replied. He turned away. “I mean, not like I really think about it.”

         “Mhm.” Walt let his gaze rove over Jesse, admiringly. The pink staining his cheeks, his lips red and shiny and parted invitingly, the way he was laid out beneath him with spread legs, it was all too tempting.

         “Quit staring,” Jesse complained, squirming.

         Walt cupped his cheek and kissed him. His other hand skated up Jesse’s side and stopped at his chest. He pinched a rosy nipple, causing Jesse to squeak. Walt chuckled at the glare that was sent his way, and simply rolled it between his fingers, getting a soft keen in response. “Good boy,” Walt purred before sucking a mark onto Jesse’s chest.

         Jesse arched up against him. “Walt, c’mon,” he moaned. His hands moved from Walt’s biceps to his shoulders to his back, seemingly unsure where to land. Jesse thrust his hips, grinding his cock against Walt’s. “More.”

         Walt moaned and thrust back. It was difficult not to keep doing so, but there was more he wanted to do. He moved away—Jesse making a noise of disappointment as he did—and leaned over to open the bedside drawer. The way Jesse pawed at him was distracting, but Walt managed to find the bottle of lube and a condom. He might not have really expected anything to happen between them, but he’d wanted to be prepared.

         “Confident much?” Jesse teased, though his voice shook just a little. He was nervous.

         “Hopeful, more like it,” Walt replied, rubbing Jesse’s thighs. Leaning down, he kissed Jesse gently on the lips. “Don’t worry, I’ll go slow.”

         Jesse frowned. “I ain’t worried, yo,” he protested, wrapping his arms around Walt’s shoulders. His face reddened and he looked away. “Just, like, I’ve never done this before. With a dude.”

         Walt kissed the corner of his mouth. “That’s okay, Jesse. All you have to do is let me do the work,” he said, opening the bottle of lube and squeezing some out onto his fingers. Walt kissed a trail up to Jesse’s ear. “You can do that, right?”

         “Yeah...” Jesse sighed, tilting his head to expose his neck for Walt.

         “Good,” Walt rumbled, kissing what was offered. He coaxed Jesse’s legs up around his waist and moved one of the pillows under his hips. Walt pet Jesse’s twitching stomach, calming him, and reached beneath him with his other hand.

         “Ah!” Jesse gasped, eyes wide, when Walt brushed his finger against his rim.

         Grinning, Walt repeated the motion until, slowly, he pushed into his tight heat. Jesse gave a breathy moan, his legs squeezing against Walt’s sides. Walt dipped his head down and captured one of Jesse’s nipples in mouth. He flicked it with his tongue, earning a mewl in response. Walt swore the noises Jesse was making would be the death of him, he was so hard.

         “That’s— _uhn_ —weird,” Jesse panted, nose scrunching as Walt worked a second finger into him.

         Walt’s brows furrowed. “Bad weird?”

         Jesse shook his head. “Just weird. Keep going.”

         “Maybe I can make it feel better,” Walt murmured, curling and spreading his fingers. He pressed deeper, crooked his fingers.

_“Holy fuck!”_ Jesse yelped, back bowing. He slammed his hips back against Walt’s hand. “Again! Do it again, _please.”_

         If it got Jesse begging so nicely, Walt had no problem doing just that. Rubbing against that little bundle of nerves, he watched Jesse writhe and moan between gasps of _“Yes!”_ and _“More!”_. He’d have to see if he could get him off on that alone, but not right then. Walt removed his fingers, added more lube, and pressed three back in. However, he went straight to stretching Jesse open for him. If he took too much longer this would all be over way too fast.

         “Ready?” Walt asked, pulling his fingers out again.

         Jesse nodded frantically. “Yes, _c’mon!”_

         Walt chuckled. He ripped open the condom, rolled it on, then swiped more lube over Jesse’s rim; he was practically dripping wet already, but Walt wanted to be sure. He took himself in hand and lined up. “Stay relaxed,” Walt instructed, rubbing circles into Jesse’s hip with his thumb.

         “I am,” Jesse whined, gripping Walt’s shoulders. Walt started to push in. Immediately Jesse tensed, eyes clamping shut. “Fuck. No, don’t stop, I can take it.”

         Walt wrapped a hand around Jesse’s cock, which was rather slender and pink like the rest of him, and stroked. Jesse moaned and his body relaxed, allowing Walt to press in further. By the time he’d bottomed out, they were both panting hard. Walt’s head dropped to Jesse’s heaving chest as he took in steadying breaths.

         Jesse curled his fingers into the back of Walt’s hair. “Move?” he asked, digging his heel into Walt’s lower back.

         Nodding, Walt rolled his hips, a shallow thrust into Jesse’s welcoming warmth. Jesse moaned gratefully and arched into him. Walt grunted and grasped Jesse’s hips. He pulled out almost all the way, leaving just the tip inside, then thrust back in.

         “Fuck, _yeah,”_ Jesse keened, rocking his ass back to meet him. He raked his short nails over Walt’s back, getting a pleased hiss in return.

         Walt kissed him hard, bending Jesse in on himself. The change in angle let him go deeper, and Jesse threw his head back with a loud moan.

         “There!” Jesse cried out. _“Walt!”_

         The sound of Jesse chanting his name had Walt picking up the pace. He reached between them and stroked Jesse in time with his thrusts, pulling and twisting, wringing the most beautiful sounds from Jesse’s lips. “That’s it, Jesse. You’re so good for me,” Walt praised. He leaned down and bit the soft spot between Jesse’s neck and shoulder. Jesse wailed, his body tightening around Walt’s cock. With only two, three more thrusts, Walt shot over the edge, cumming hard.

         Jesse’s mouth dropped open into a little ‘o’ of pleasure, riding out Walt’s stuttering thrusts until he, too, reached his peak with a shout.

         As much as Walt wanted to collapse then and there, he knew he couldn’t. Gradually, he sat up and pulled out. Walt removed the condom, tied it off, and dropped it in the trashcan by the bed, then he got up despite his protesting muscles and headed for the bathroom. After cleaning himself off, he brought in a wet washcloth for Jesse, who looked a little dazed. Walt couldn’t help the sense of satisfaction he felt at seeing Jesse blissfully fucked out.

         “Hm?” Jesse mumbled, blinking down at him as Walt washed the cum from his stomach. “Thanks.”

         Walt patted his leg, returned the washcloth to the bathroom, and got into bed. Jesse rolled onto his side and cuddled up to him, resting his head on Walt’s chest. Walt kissed the top of his head and wrapped his arms around him. “I take it you felt good?”

         “Mmhmm. Better than good,” Jesse replied. He yawned and snuggled closer.

         “Good.” Walt set his glasses on the bedside table and slowly rubbed Jesse’s back. It didn’t take long for either of them to fall asleep.


End file.
